


The Hunt

by CgBK10



Series: The Possessor Series [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier, Youtube Markiplier RPF
Genre: Celine - Freeform, Colonel William, Darkiplier - Freeform, Gen, Head Cannon, Markiplier - Freeform, Mayor Damien - Freeform, Sean McLoughlin - Freeform, Signe Hansen - Freeform, The Hunt, Who Killed Markiplier - Freeform, Wiishu - Freeform, jacksepticeye - Freeform, wilford warfstache - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12522744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CgBK10/pseuds/CgBK10
Summary: Dark almost believed that it was just a coincidence - that he couldn’t have gotten this lucky, not after years of searching.But then he saw it. The man turned toward the camera. It was just a flash, an instant, too fast for the human eye to catch.The color of his eyes became a light shade of grey - dark enough to distinguish against the white of his eye before flashing back to the dark warm brown.It was all the proof he needed.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is kinda my first main fan fiction. It depicts my head-cannon of the events that happen right after the last episode of "Who Killed Markiplier?" Celine's spirit has passed on, but the Dark has claimed the remaining power of her soul - thus how he has monster-like strength and skills (etc..). The Prologue starts with my interpretation of the end of the last episode, but later forms into the story (so bare with me on this).
> 
> ALSO!! This is NOT a slash/smut. Jack/Wiishu is kinda mentioned/portrayed in later chapters but it is NOT the main focus of the story.  
> If you're looking for smut, you've came to the wrong fan fic. Sorry.

Damien opened the front door of the manor and let the Colonel step outside ahead of him. He grasped the black cane with his other hand and turned slightly to give the empty mansion one last look.

This place once held dear memories for him. He had celebrated his successful election, friends birthdays, various holidays - so much joy and happiness had been seen under this roof. Now, it had become drenched with the aire of murder and betrayal. The atmosphere made it hard to breathe, and the manor overall had lost its shine.

A figure pounding its fists on the other side of a shattered mirror caught Damien’s attention. He could make out that his old friend was yelling at him, begging him to let them out, but no sound could be heard.

_Celine used what remained of her energy to send and sustain the other two souls into their body. After the transfusion, Celine’s presence started to slowly slip away. When they awakened, Damien watched through the other’s eyes as they took in the distraught state of the Colonel. As the other man went away through the corridors searching for Damien and Celine, the other walked toward the mirror and picked up Damien’s walking cane._

_Familiarity, clarity, and a fire-like spark raced up their arm at the point of contact. Damien saw a split chance decision._

_He took it._

_In a flicker and a flash, Damien rejected the hosts soul from the shared vessel and trapped them in the mirror. He consumed the rest of Celine’s soul to stabilize the shattered bond and let his newfound power consume him. His entire body felt like it was pulsating, and his blood buzzed through his veins. He looked into the mirror above where his cane had rested and was greeted by the sight of the hosts soul. They were in shock; not quite grasping what had happened to them - what Damien had done to them. He watched as they placed one hand of the mirror and then the other. They pressed firmly before their hands curled into fists. He watched as they looked back at Damien. Shock turned to realization, realization turning to hurt, and hurt turned into a combination of rage and betrayal. Damien felt an echo of shame from somewhere in his gut. He had sunken to Iplier’s level; he had performed the exact same stunt which got his own body taken away from him. The fact that all of this - the murders, the betrayal, the anguish - all started by that man - that thing - made his blood boil._

_He was no longer a man. He had become a monster._

_Closing his eyes, Damien allowed the anger to grow into a blazing fire of rage, fury - fueled by a blind desire for revenge. He cracked his neck, and the mirror shattered. Gripping his cane, he looked back into the mirror and no longer saw their soul but instead saw himself - his new image. The whites of his eyes had turned pitch black and the once brown iris turned death white. The pupil had become a slit - like that of an animal. His once slicked back hair had became a mess, and most of it had fallen in front of his face. He didn’t bother to correct it. His skin had become an off-shade of grey - like light colored ash had fallen and impregnated itself into his skin. His canines were longer than normal, and his nails had turned to a rotten shade of black. He had become an abnormality that shouldn’t exist on this plane._

_Damien grit his teeth as he realised that there was no way back from this. His life as a mayor had ended; never being able to return to the reality he strived so hard to create. His expression turned to that of a pissed off rabid animal, and with one last snarl, he turned on his heel and went in search for the ever-noisy Colonel._

_Damien had found the Colonel in the entryway of the Manor. The mentioned man immediately embraced him, repeating variations of “I knew it was a joke! I didn’t kill anyone!” over and over. Returning the embrace with his free arm, Damien had explained that Celine was with him, if only her memory, and that she was safe. After answering the other questions the Colonel had, he seemed content with the idea that Celine was within Damien and asked what they should do from here._

_“I’m going after him. He ruined me - ruined all of us. He did this to us, and I refuse to let him roam free without consequence. He will die by my hand; I’ll make sure of that.” The Colonel immediately saw it as a hunting expedition and stated matter of factly that he would join Damien in the hunt. “This is not your burden to bear, William,” Damien placed his free hand onto the Colonel’s shoulder, “You have been through so much already. I cannot ask you for your assistance.”_

_“Oh bully, don’t you dare bother me with that sappy mumbo-jumbo stuff. The thrill of the hunt always calls out to me. I’m more than happy to lend my assistance in taking down that sneaky devil.” William clasped Damien’s shoulder in return. “Now, let’s go and hunt down that scallywag. What do you say, my dear friend?” Damien nodded and reached for the entry way door handle._

Breaking away from his thoughts of the previous events, Damien broke his gaze away from the livid figure in the shattered mirror and walked out onto the front steps; the door shutting behind him with a audible click.

Decades have passed since The Manor, and the trail to Iplier had long since went cold. His city had presumed that their beloved Mayor had perished, and their thoughts had been confirmed fifty years later when his body was discovered states away in an old log cabin by a river. The body had turned old and grey, but there had been no sign of Iplier. Up until that point, Damien had been relying on tracking his old life to find the bastard. He learned from the detectives that the body had been in the cabin for months, and with that his remaining lead to Iplier had slipped away.

With the case growing cold, he had returned to his flat to find the a Colonel sitting in a lounge chair cleaning the barrel of his shotgun with a cloth. “Ah, you're home! Very good, ol’ chap. Just in time for our evening hunt. There's a couple of scoundrels down around the bend that I've had my eye on the last few days. They’ve been harassing a few young ‘n pretty looking things, and that’s a good of reason to play predator if I do say so myself.” Damien shut the front door the rest of the way, removed his charcoal suit coat, and hung the garment on a wooden coat rack.

He listened to his old friend chatter away about the various methods on which the hunt would go about - going into detail about how he had watched and recorded the times and activities about which the ‘scoundrels’ lived their lives, and how he had planned out the location and opportune moment on which to strike. Damien picked up his cane as the time drew near, checked the blades condition before resheathing it, and followed the Colonel out the door as the conversation drifted from slaughter to what they were going to have for dinner.

Approximately three hours later, Damien was wiping the crimson blood from his blade by means of a handkerchief. The rain was pouring down upon the dimly lit alley, and their clothes were soaked to the bone. William was smiling up to the raging storm. A series of lightning bolts streaked and cracked across the sky. The Colonel started to ramble about how it was nights like these that reminded him of his time in the jungle - that it was just as terrifying, but then stated that he was the predator now. He was the one that could hunt in the night, could snarl and scare his prey before he went in for the final kill. It was nights like those where one couldn’t sleep - the world was too terrifying and thrilling to be able to sleep peacefully. “You remind me of that darkness,” William had concluded and Damien brought his attention to the other. “Your aura is terrifying and yet evermore I’m drawn into it. I could perish at the existence of that darkness, and yet I can’t stay away from it. Just like the hunt. I’ll continue to hunt until the game finally kills me. I cannot resist its call.” Damien processed the analogy. He had become but a lonely shadow of his old vibrant self. He had lost the naive image that there existed good and pure individuals in the world. Everyone wanted something bad enough that they would stab their own family in the back to get to it. His position and accompanying ideals had died the moment he accepted the invitation to the Iplier Mansion. At that time, he had been up for re-election.

His name never made it on the ballot.

Damien looked down at his wrist and observed the black veins that pulsed underneath his skin. William started to repeat the word “Darkness” over and over, mostly to himself, and Damien clenched his fist. Lowering his arm back to his side, Damien stared to make his way out of the alley and William soon followed leaving a river of blood and seven dismembered corpses scattered against the grim covered cement.

A week later, Damien returned to the flat to find William sitting on the floor, his various pistols and rifles spread out around him. He was muttering to himself as he picked apart a pistol grip. Damien almost believed he was in the wrong flat when he took in William’s new appearance. The Colonel had donned a bright yellow button up shirt, a pink bow tie placed at the collar, and pink suspenders slung over his shoulders and attached to the band of his tan colored slacks. His hair was combed over to one side and he has dyed his mustache an equivalent shade of pink. When Damien had inquired about the sudden change in appearance, the other had simply answered, “I am a new man, Dark! A change in one’s self keeps one’s life as exciting as the unpredictable events of the coming day!” The Colonel then stood and made his way to their shared liquor cabinet, grabbing a brown bottle and two tumblers from the shelf.

“Who is Dark, Wil?” Dark had accepted a glass of whiskey from his friends hand.

“You are! Just as I am Wilford. As we have been and as we shall ever be!” Willia--Wilford filled his own glass and turned to stand in front of him.

Damien looked down into his own glass as the swirling amber liquid clinged to its edges. “Is that so?”

“We have long outlived our old aliases, my good man,” Wilford replied, his tone more serious than before, “I even dare to say that those names passed the moment that last round of poker ended.” Wilford raised his own glass towards Damien. “I propose to let those names be associated to the men we were before this all started - when we were ignorant and happy.”

Wilford had a point, he reasoned. However, to surrender his name would be to fully accept the fact that he could no longer go back to his old life - though he wasn’t sure why he ever thought it was still possible to do such a thing. It had been the only thing that Iplier hadn’t taken from him. Iplier never returned to the town which he once ran. Mayor Damien had been remembered by his town only as a man who cared about his citizens. Mayor Damien was a man that had been loved by everyone.

Mayor Damien was not a rage-driven madman who slaughtered snobby juveniles who couldn’t keep their hands off of other people. Mayor Damien was not a man who used and broken bonds between the people he cared about the most to get revenge upon another. Mayor Damien wouldn’t have cast his dear friend into a shattered mirror for all of eternity.

Wilford watched as a slew of emotions crossed Dark’s face as he came to terms with himself - his new self. Dark raised his head and made eye contact with Wilford, and he took in the blackened eyes. “To Colonel William,” Wilford toasted as he re-raised his glass.

Dark pressed his lips together into a fine line and raised his own glass, the two tumblers clinking together at the rims. “To Mayor Damien.”

With the raise of their glasses and the burning of their throats, the memorial for two great men came to an end.

Another ten years passed, and the year now is 2017. A light drizzle of rain cascaded down from the city-lit night sky that draped over the city skyline. Steady footfalls and the tap of a cane falling in sync with every other step blended in with the rest of the city noise of people, automobiles, and sirens. Dark was out for an evening walk to the nearby cafe. Cafe’s were the only piece of humanity that he still enjoyed. He had mastered disguising his monstrous form by taking on his old-life human appearance years ago which allowed him to blend in with society. He stepped inside the busy cafe and made his way to the counter. “Oh, Mr. Iplier, welcome back! It’s been quite a while since you last stopped by to say hello,” The young barista, Leslie, had greeted Dark, “Will it be the usual again, today?”

Dark smiled, “As always, Leslie, thank you.” Leslie appreciated the gratitude and entered in the order for a black coffee, no sugar, a splash of milk, and a croissant.

He started referring to himself as Mr. Iplier when Wilford had mentioned the idea. “He stole your name, didn’t he? You need a last name, so steal his. Besides, if he catches wind that his name is being used, he might make himself known again which will give us a lead.” Dark had replied that he would not sink to Iplier’s level. “You’ve already stole a body, Dark. It’s a little too late to protect your pride.”

As he waited for his order to be brought out, two young women were giggling over a video being displayed on their phone. “See? I told you he was funny!”

“I know! You’re right, his commentary is hilarious! I need to subscribe to his channel.” The other girl pulled out her phone and opened up her web browser. “What’s his name, again?”

“It’s Markiplier!” Dark’s body stiffened; his back was facing the two women. He turned his head slightly but not enough to get noticed by them.

“How do you even spell that?” Both women giggled.

“It’s easier than it sounds!,” replied the other woman. Dark pulled his own cell phone out of his suit coat. “M-a-r-,” his thumb tapped in time with the spelling, “k-i-p-,” his eyes widened and the grip on his phone increased, “l-i-e-r. Markiplier!” He hit enter on the search bar. His blood pulsed through his ears, and he inhaled sharply. Images upon images of a dark haired man enveloped his screen - of fanart, selfies, and screen captures. All of them sharing the same face of the man he lost track of long ago. He clicked on a link to the latest man’s video. The man was playing a horror game of some sort and the man let out a less-than-manly scream. Dark almost believed that it was just a coincidence - that he couldn’t have gotten this lucky, not after years of searching.

But then he saw it. The man turned toward the camera. It was just a flash, an instant, too fast for the human eye to catch.The color of his eyes became a light shade of grey - dark enough to distinguish against the white of his eye before flashing back to the dark warm brown.

It was all the proof he needed.

Leslie turned around, a cup of coffee and a bagged croissant in hand, but the regular was nowhere to be found.


	2. How to Catch Your Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, right, he has a pet now. He supposed he should take her for a walk. 
> 
>  
> 
> What a fantastic idea that turned out to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so now that Mark has came out with details about what was going on with "Who Killed Markiplier?", it's obvious that my story has the characters set up just a tad bit differently.
> 
> I've already wrote several chapters, so I'm just gonna keep rolling with my interpretation.  
> This chapter is kinda a filler/setting up the situation chapter - sorry about that. I'll post the next chapter right away so it's a little more interesting. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Hey, Chica, you want to go for a walk?” Chica instantly perked up and her tail swished back-and-forth at an amazing speed. Mark continued to coo at the canine as he grabbed the dog leash, attached the link to her collar, and headed out the door. 

 

The sun had set, and the sky was turning into a deeper shade of purple. As they made their way into a nearby park, he was stopped by some fans. He signed autographs and took selfies while they watched Chica play in the nearby lake. “You’re gonna need a bath,” Mark told the soaked canine. She promptly shook her body, and the water spray nailed him right in the face; the fans laughed and clapped with delight at his misfortune. 

 

After a few hours of hanging around in the park, he said his goodbye’s and started walking Chica back home. Night had come by this point, and the black sky had a slightly orange hue from the city lights. Mark and Chica made their way onto the final stretch of the path that led to home; It was down an alleyway where only one orange-tinted street light illuminated the way. “That was so much fun, wasn’t it Chica?” The dog barked in response as they started to pass under the street light. “I wonder what the rest of the night will bring me.”

 

“Hello, Mark.”

 

A loud bang echoed off the buildings of the quiet neighborhood. Mark fell flat back onto his ass, shock and fear portrayed across his features as he stared at the bullet hole in the wall right above his head; smoke was still swirling out of it from the impact. Chica, terrified out of her mind, hid behind Mark with her tail between her legs. 

 

“Ah Bully, I missed.” Mark whipped his head around with the intention of telling whoever just shot at him to fuck-RIGHT-the- _ hell _ -OFF to whatever rat-infested back-alley hole he came from, but the words never made it passed his throat when he took in the sight of the figure. The pink mustached man was holding a smoking revolver loosely in his palm. 

 

“It’s alright, Wil,” another voice came from the shadows just out of reach of the street light. A clack of a cane echoed next to a pair of footsteps as the second person came into view. This one was wearing a black suit and tie. “He won’t get away.” The instant the tip of his cane came to rest against the ground, a pitch black shadow raced from its silver end and towards Mark. “You were able to hide from us ever since The Manor _.” _ The shadow phased under Mark and Chica’s feet. “We’ve spent years tracking you down.” Suddenly, the shadows shot upwards towards the sky. “You succeeded in hiding, but you missed the fame, didn’t you?” The edges of the shadow gathered and sealed at a point high above all of their heads. “So you became a Youtuber for the whole world to see.” A black dome had formed. To the outside world, nothing looked out of place - it had turned into a dimly lit alleyway. The inside was illuminated by a red/blue-ish hue and any events that occurred within the dome can never affect the outside world. 

 

Dark and Wilford watched as their target began to chuckle. Iplier turned to face the two men; his irises became grey, and he flashed a toothy grin.  “Ah, Damien, Colonel, how lovely it is to see you. Tell me, how is our dear friend, Celine?”

 

Earlier that day, Iplier had quickly realised that the Tyler Scheid that Fischbach knew was not the same man that had served him as his butler all those years ago - if the headlock he was currently in had anything to say about it. “Uncle! Uncle!,” Iplier shouted, laughing the entire time along with the rest of Team-Iplier. Tyler released his head after a moment, and Iplier rubbed the side of his neck. They were all discussing the latest projects that were in the works by brainstorming ideas that didn’t conflict too much with everyone’s schedules. Iplier added his own inputs and thoughts as he continued to master and perfect his new role as Markiplier.

 

The lack of difficulty it took to obtain his new host was hysterical. Iplier bounced from host to host over the past decades, and overtime he became powerful enough to takeover a new host without needing the host’s soul to grant him permission to enter. Once he had entered the new vessel, the body would last him a few decades. However, the host’s body would eventually give way to the strain of the foreign entity, and Iplier would eventually need a new host. The process of how it was done was the same method as when he performed it back in his mansion minus the granting-permission part: He would kill the current vessel and take possession of another by exchanging the host’s souls. Iplier never paid much attention to what happened to the other’s soul afterwards for they had served their purpose perfectly. The vessel he had been in was an older man whose organs were starting to show signs of failure, thus the time had come again to start his search for another host.  Not having a new host near by when his current body died would make obtaining a vessel all the more difficult since his soul would be stuck within the corpse until it was found - he learned that the hard way when his first vessel’s body gave out. It wasn’t until the authorities found the corpse when he could finally jump into an officer’s body and quickly sneak away through the woods before anyone noticed anything amiss. Judging his current host’s condition, Iplier figured that this body had about 5 months left before it collapses, so what better way to start planning out his next transfer than by searching the internet. 

 

What would he want to be this time? A celebrity? Maybe a pilot. What about an artist? His eyes scanned the scrolling page of images and articles of various famous people. About half an hour into the search, Iplier came across a web article discussing the latest trend of “Lets Plays” on Youtube. He wasn’t sure what drew him to open the article, but soon he was reading about how some people were making a career out of playing video games. It discussed some of the fans views of why they watched the improv-celebrities and even had some Q&A interviews with some of the Youtubers. He was scrolling through a list of the more famous ones when a particular name caught his eye. After a brief moment of shock, Iplier laughed hysterically. Through the years of this lifestyle, he didn’t believe much more could surprise him - but he stood corrected. 

 

_ Markiplier. _

 

It was literally his old name mashed together! He couldn’t remember the last time he referred himself by his original name. Oh, what a delight this was! He continued to laugh as he pulled up an image of the man. In another life, the guy could be his identical twin brother. If this wasn’t a sign for his next vessel, then he didn’t know what one would be. 

 

He soon found out that Markiplier (Mark Fischbach, he later learned) would be attending a PAX convention in Seattle soon, and that he would be having a meet-and-greet there. It was the perfect opportunity. He didn’t have to stalk anyone, corner them in a back alley, or throw an elaborate party. All he had to do was show up and shake his hand. Iplier instantly bought the PAX ticket and booked a one-way trip to Seattle. 

 

A three months and a five hour wait later, he was a couple feet away from meeting his new vessel. Iplier quickly popped a couple pills into his mouth right before his turn came. 

 

Markiplier greeted him with a warm smile and a friendly hello. He returned the same sentiment and reached out his hand, and Mark grasped it firmly. “A pleasure it is to meet you, my new host. My name is Iplier.” Before Mark could begin to question the strange greeting, his old vessel collapsed to the ground. Foam formed at the mouth as the body convulsed. There were a lot of shouts and screams after that, and Markiplier was still with shock.

 

At least that’s what it appeared to be. Iplier was settling his energy into his new vessel. He ‘downloaded’ Mark’s memories, feelings, emotions, and everything that made the man named Markiplier, allowing him to take over the vessel’s role in society seamlessly with no one being any wiser. He held back his smile as the security team pulled him back behind the curtains and away from the now dead corpse. After being questioned by the police, he was allowed to return to his hotel room. Ah, his vessel would send out a tweet to his fans letting them know that he was just fine and not to worry, wouldn’t he? Opening the vessel’s phone with ease, he did just that. Having access to all of the memories made adapting to a new life so much easier. 

 

The corpse had been wheeled away in a body bag, and the death at PAX covered every headline of the evening news. 

 

That was three weeks ago. The incident at PAX had been settling down, and soon it had become water under the bridge. He loved his new found popularity! His vessel’s previous owner had created an enormous following and a fantastic team. He fell into his new role, and he quickly realised how much fun he could have creating new videos. Oh, to be loved and recognised again after so long left him in a state of euphoria. 

 

The day was drawing to a close, and the team was starting to part ways for the evening. Iplier made his way into the studio and Chica followed behind him. As the door shut, an idea entered Iplier’s mind. He turned to face the dog and gave her scratches on her head and behind her ears. “That’s a good girl, you like that don’t you? You’re so cute and pretty.” As he continued to coo at her, he focused some of his energy into his hand.

 

A red-colored aura snuck from Iplier’s hand and phased into the canine’s head. The brief disturbance caused her to scratch her ear, but she quickly returned her head into Iplier’s palm wanting the petting to continue. 

 

“That’s a good girl,” Iplier smiled. He stood and stretched out his back. What should he do now? Iplier reflected upon his host’s memories. Oh, right, he has a pet now. He supposed he should take her for a walk.  

 

 _A fantastic idea that turned out to be_ Iplier thought to himself.  Both men became furious at the mention of their departed friend and their noses flared in anger. “Oh, that’s right. My mistake.” Dark withdrew his sword from his cane while Wilford cocked back the hammer on his revolver. Iplier watched in amusement as Dark raised the blade towards his face and Wilford aimed the barrel toward a spot right between Iplier’s eyes. “Oh my, what nice toys you have.” 

 

Chica walked out from behind Iplier. Her fur had turned pitch black, eyes turned into haunted-white blurred orbs, and she snarled.

 

Iplier smirked, “But... mine’s better.” Dark and Wilford’s curiosity turned into horror as the canine’s body began to shapeshift, change, and grow. They could hear bones cracking and breaking as the beast grew to the height of a two story building. It’s white eyes bore into Dark and Wilford, and the sound of it’s roar shook the ground beneath their feet. 

 

“So, what’ll it be, boys?” Iplier asked after a moment with a smile gracing his lips.

 

Dark felt himself take a step back. In all of his pursuing, he never thought that Iplier was even capable of such a thing. He could take over other bodies, sure, but manipulating other creatures? How was he able to do this? Dark suddenly wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to take both of them on in the state he was in.

 

“Well, it has been a while since I’ve been allowed to hunt actual animal game,” Wilford spoke up as he lazily checked the amount of bullets that were still in the revolver - though it was more out of habit at this point. Dark really couldn’t pinpoint when Wilford had lost his humanity and became some sort of a different … entity … entirely, but Wilford’s powers included unlimited ammo in the form of energy. 

 

Dark whipped his head around to look at Wilford. “That’s suicide!”

 

“Good thing I’ve been deemed mad,” he replied. He looked towards Dark as he shut the rotating mechanism back into place. “I’m not running away from some mutt. Are you?” 

 

Dark pondered for a moment before turning his attention back to Iplier and his pet. “No.” 

 

“Are we doing this or what?,” Iplier’s impatient voice regained the attention of Darkiplier and Wilford. Iplier had one hand on his hip while his opposite foot tapped impatiently against the ground. “I’ve got places to be.” 

 

Dark and Wilford raised their weapons.

 

Iplier chuckled, “Excellent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment to let me know what you think!


	3. When the Hunter becomes the Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You still came chasing after me. I admire your dedication.” Fingers wrapped around Dark’s neck, and he was pulled up onto his knees. “How about I give you an award for finally tracking me down?”

Short, sharp sounds similar to metal nails scraping harshly along a chalk board pierced through the constant booming of bellowing growls and gunshots. Iplier lashed out a series of red shadows right into Dark’s chest, catching him off guard and slamming him into the wall. Dark’s form collapsed to the ground after the impact. “Stay focused!,” Wilford shouted at his partner while firing a series of bullets towards the beast. Dark watched through weary eyes as Wilford jumped out of the way of a swinging paw; the spot where he just stood became demolished by the razor sharp claws. The beast’s teeth and talons seemed to be able to cut through anything that stood in its way. Dark’s breath was ragged from exertion and injury, and he could taste blood in his mouth. “How did you escape?,” Iplier asked. Dark moved his gaze back to Iplier; the smug bastard didn’t even look like he had broken a sweat. Red shadows moved around the man like ribbons flowing in a random breeze; the tips of them had formed into points. Iplier placed one hand on his hip and cocked his head to the side while he smirked at the crumpled man. “How is William still alive? What did you do to him, Damien? Did your corrupt him? Did you teach him the methods of our madness?”

 

Dark struggled back onto his feet and grasped his sword in both hands; the sheath had been discarded to the side long ago. “ _ You  _ did this to us,” Dark spat out, “ _ You _ brought this life upon us, you bastard. We were friends. We  _ trusted _ you!” He dashed forward, his movement making him appear like a blur, and swung his blade. 

 

“And you performed your part so  _ well! _ ” Iplier parried the assault by crossing two of his red auras together. They solidifying and caught the swinging blade within its grasp. “I can’t blame you for stealing another body. It makes life so much more interesting, don’t you think? Postponing death for all of eternity.” Another set of red auras came around from his side and wrapped around Dark’s neck. Iplier lifted the man into the air and yanked the blade from Dark’s grasp. Dark’s hands scrambled to find some purchase on the binds around his neck, but the binds laid flat against his throat and tightened. Iplier observed the shape of the sword before he cast it to the side; the blade ringing out as it clattered against the cement. “You were my first, you know?” Dark cracked one eye open at the question as he struggled for air. “My first take-over. When you reached out to me through Celine, your offer to help me figure out the killer, your offer to do anything to help seek revenge on my behalf,” Iplier brought Dark’s face level with his, “Your offer when you  _ let me in  _ was so  _ sincere _ and  _ genuine _ that, if I had truly shared those same feelings, I would have shed a  _ tear _ .” Iplier enforced the last word by throwing Dark’s body across the alley which slammed his body into the wall; the force of the impact creating a crater. 

A yellow and pink blur flew between the space of Dark and Iplier. The revolver clattered next to Iplier’s feet while Wilford’s body hit and tumbled across the ground until it stopped when it slammed up against the side of the dome. Iplier kicked the gun the opposite direction and started making his way towards Dark. Wilford’s body hadn’t moved since he collapsed from the impact, and the Beast was walking towards its prey; blood stained its claws. “And after everything I had done to you,” Iplier continued, “You still came chasing after me. I admire your dedication.” Fingers wrapped around Dark’s neck, and he was pulled up onto his knees. “How about I give you an award for finally tracking me down?” 

 

Blood splattered to the ground in large globs as Iplier’s free hand, that had been formed into claws via his red aura, plunged into Dark’s ribcage; the tips of his talons encircled his rapid-pulsing heart. 

 

“I’ll use the power of your soul and carry it with me until it becomes completely depleted, my dear Damien.” 

 

Dark screamed from absolute pain agony coming from his chest. Every nerve in his entire body felt like they were being burned alive by white-hot molten nickel. Every atom and every molecule was being torn in two as his spirit started being absorbed into Iplier’s body. 

 

It was just like that time back in The Manor. It was  _ exactly  _ like The Manor. 

 

Dark’s vision flashed white, and time seemed to freeze. The pain had numbed his mind to the point where he couldn’t think properly. His soul was slipping further and further into Iplier’s grasp. Dark felt his remaining strength slowly draining away. His eyes drooped and he became sluggish. He was tired, and it would be so easy to just give up and sleep; something that he hasn’t done properly for years. Just… five minutes...

 

_ Thu-Thump. _

 

Dark heard a sound. 

 

_ Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump.  _

 

He opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - and saw red fibers, almost like the texture of muscles, twisting and coiling around his limbs as he was slowly absorbed. Dark had no energy, and his body and mental state had become drained from battle. Where was he? He could see a pair of feet in his peripheral vision.

 

Wait... He saw what? Dark gathered his remaining strength to raise his head and get a better look. 

 

_ Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump.  _

 

“....That’s… That’s impossible,” Dark mumbled to himself. Suspended above Dark was a man bound into a crucified position via the red fibers; his head was tilted forward due to his unconscious state. “How… You shouldn’t…” White pulses of light traveled from the man through the red fibers; the white lights fell along in time with the noise. 

_ Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump. _

 

The noise. It’s a heartbeat _. _ It was Fischbach’s heartbeat! He was  _ alive! _ How the hell was he alive?! Why was he here? Did something go wrong with the soul transfer? Dark thought about his own transfer as with an attempt to understand how two souls could fit into one body--. 

 

… Dammit. That’s how Iplier became so powerful. 

 

God  _ Dammit. _

 

Dark had gotten so close. They had been fighting and searching for so long, Dark was tired, pissed, frustrated, and they had come so far just to have their ass handed to them. Iplier was using him  _ again _ . His life was going to be ruined  _ again.  _ Iplier was going to kill everyone Dark ever cared for and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.  _ AGAIN. _

 

“Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, daMMIT ALL TO HELL! I REFUSE! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO CONTROL ME AGAIN!” Dark screamed at the top of his lungs as the fibers began to make their final pass of binding him, “ **I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO KILL ANYONE ELSE EVER AGAIN!** ”  

 

A clawed hand gripped his shoulder and Dark was ripped from his binds. His spirit snapped back into his body like a rubberband, the fire that was once his nerves had cooled down to a dull ache, and Iplier’s body was sent flying across the alley into the opposite wall. 

 

Dark blinked and suddenly he was on a patch of grass with his back leaning against a large tree. He looked to his right to find Wilford laying on his back on the ground next to him. He was unconscious, and his breath was ragged. To his left laid the revolver and his sword; the blade had been sheathed back into his cane. Dark took in his surroundings and realized that he was in a nearby park; he and Wilford had passed it on the way to find Iplier. Dark looked over his shoulder towards the alley and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. What the hell was  _ that thing? _

 

Back in the alleyway, Iplier stumbled to his feet. He placed one hand on his gut as he wiped blood from his split lip using the other. His pet sniffed the area where her pray once laid. Iplier was confused. The dome was still present. Nothing should be able to get in or out of it. “So where the  _ hell _ did they  _ go?,”  _ Iplier spat to no one in particular. 

 

“Ya know, I remember Chica being a helluva lot cuter.” 

 

Iplier and the beast turned their head to the direction of the voice; both growling at the presence. A man stood at the edge of the dome, his hands were stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie, but his face was cast in shadow. “What did you do?,” Iplier spat out while standing up fully. Iplier started to re-summon his aura. “Who the hell are you?,” he added letting his voice drip with the promise of a painful demise regardless of the other’s answer. 

 

Unphased by the threat, the figure replied, “You have his memories, don’t you? You figure it out.”

 

Before Iplier could reply, the beast took a sudden charge at the new enemy; the paws shook the ground with each bound. The beast swooped down upon the man’s form and it’s paw made contact the ground. The hound raised her paw and became confused at the lack of dead prey. A whistle sounded from above, and both beings raised their head towards the noise. The figure was floating near the top of the dome. 

 

“Sit.” The man descended suddenly and landed a powerful axe-kick onto the hound’s lower back. The beast cried out in pain as its back legs gave way, and its rear end collapsed to the ground. Iplier watched in anger as the man rebounded into the air and removed one hand from his sweater pocket. His hand and right eye suddenly burst to life with a green fiery-smoke like aura, and a thunderous boom struck the top of the dome from the outside. 

 

Spiderweb-like cracks formed, then spread across the dome’s surface until the dome made a sickening explosion and shattered into pieces; the solid fragments dissipated into smoke before vanishing altogether. Iplier’s jaw was slack, and his eyes widened in shock as he took in the giant floating orb above him. 

 

Who the hell was he kidding? That wasn’t an orb, it was a fucking  _ eyeball. _ A giant neon green oozing eyeball that had the same size as the former dome. From Iplier’s perspective, the silhouette of the man eclipsed the bright glowing eye staring down at the battlefield below. Iplier no longer needed to guess the identity of the newcomer. He knew  _ exactly _ who the man was.

 

“ **_SEPTICEYE_ ** _. _ ” 

 

Jack smirked. “Stay.” The green-haired man brought his claws crashing down into the beast’s upper back and dug into its spine. The beast collapsed the rest of the way to the ground, and its equivalent of a whimper escaped through its fanged mouth. The greenish-blue aura around his hand intensified as he closed his fist and slowly withdrew his hand from the hounds back. Within his grasp was a red energy that slithered in his hand like a snake. It struggled in fear as Jack amped up the flames even further. Iplier clenched his fists at his sides as the remaining aura he had planted into the dog disintegrated before his eyes. The black aura that covered Chica’s fur slowly dissipated and turned back into her normal shade of white, and her form was shrinking back to a normal size. Jack descended slowly to the ground and knelt besides Chica. He started petting her fur with his now normal hand. “Good girl, Chica. Sorry about that. There was no other way I could’ve helped you.” Iplier watched in amazement as the dog’s tail started flicking her tail and raised her head to give Jack’s face a lick. How was she possibly still alive after all of that? The man had broken her spine! “We’ll be outta here soon, so hang on alright?” 

 

Iplier was tired of watching, and his aura flared up around him. “Who the  _ hell _ do you think you  _ are?!  _ How did you even get through the barrier?! How did you shatter it?! It’s suppose to be impregnable!”

 

Jack watched Iplier throughout his rant. “...Again, people call  _ me _ the loud one.” He got to his feet. “Well, you see, in a perfect world, you’d probably be right about that. However, reality never operates the on our schedules, does it? There’s always problems that occur that screw up our perfectly made plans. For example, people making mistakes, accidents occurring,” Jack smirked, “ya know, like glitches.”

 

Jack vanished from existence and reappeared inches from Iplier’s face, forcing the man to take a step back at the sudden closeness. “You’re not human,” Iplier managed to say. 

 

“And you are?,” replied Jack. Suddenly, Jack dug his aura-clad clawed hand into Iplier’s chest. The attack caused Iplier to become paralyzed, and Jack’s aura entered his body. He watched as Jack’s facial features became soft, and then a warm smile graced his lips. It lasted only for an instant before Jack’s attention was back to Iplier’s; his green flames retreated back into his body. “You’re freeloading days are numbered, you mother-ape-ass,” and with that being said, Jack yanked back his hand and send Iplier flying down the alleyway with a swift kick to his face. By the time Iplier stopped tumbling across the ground, Jack and Chica had disappeared and the eye had vanished from the sky. The surrounding area had been returned into a normal looking alleyway. 

 

What had Septiceye done to him just now? His behavior was so strange. It was almost as if he was seeing an old friend--.

 

He froze. No. He couldn’t have, but then he felt it. 

 

_ His flight back to LA after PAX was uneventful for the larger part of the trip. Iplier was gazing out the window as Amy was sleeping on his shoulder. The woman was gorgeous. Every aspect of his new vessel’s life kept getting better and better by the minute. Iplier lifted his arm with the intent of laying it across the woman’s shoulders.  _

 

_ “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Iplier whipped his head around at the sound of the sudden voice. Who had said that? “I did, you douchebag!” Iplier stilled as realization crossed his features. The voice was coming from inside his mind. “I don’t know what the fuck you did or who the fuck you are, but don’t you dare lay a fucking finger on her!”  _

 

_ How the in the fresh hell was the host’s soul  _ here?! _ Iplier focused to the inside of his mind to find Fischbach’s soul suspended and bound within his fiber nest. “Let me go, you asshole!” Shock was replaced by annoyance as Iplier observed the struggling man. Without really thinking about it, Iplier constricted his aura and watched as Fischbach cried out in pain. After a moment, the soul went limp. As the body sagged to stillness, Iplier looked down at his hands. How the hell did he do that? He never had the power to do something like that before. He watched as white pulses were drawn from the suspended soul. They flowed through the fiber, and Iplier’s gaze followed the lights trail until they fazed through Iplier’s own soul.  _

 

_ Oh. Wasn’t that an interesting discovery?  _

 

_ An grin formed on Iplier’s lips as his focus came back into reality. He finished placing his arm around Amy’s shoulders and returned his gaze to the passing clouds outside.  _

 

Iplier staggered to his feet as he focused inward. Fischbach was awake and his eyes were ablaze with anger. 

 

He immediately tried to suppress Fischbach back into unconsciousness, but nothing happened. He tried again, and Fischbach smirked. 

 

That  _ fucking IRISHMAN. _

 

The peaceful neighborhood once again became disturbed as Iplier scream of anger reverberated throughout the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is a smug little shit. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I have some midterms this week, so the latest the next chapter will be posted will be probably sometime next weekend. Sorry! :P
> 
> Comments are love! Comments are life!


	4. Understanding Your Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack leaned back against the couch, crossed his arms, and looked up at the ceiling. “Let me guess what the ‘long story’ part is,” Jack suggested. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Iplier, as you call him, is some sort of body hopping entity. He possesses other hosts in order to live as long as possible. However, in order to do so, he must trap the new host’s soul within the old vessel so Iplier’s soul can takeover. He probably doesn’t need permission to enter them anymore, either. How am I doing so far?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! Midterm exams are over, which means I can finally get back to writing this thing!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this! I'm glad a lot of people are liking it.
> 
> This chapter is about twice as long as the other chapters because I couldn't find a good chapter break.   
> (Also, sorry for any spelling errors. I fix them when I see them, but even after proofreading it ten times, I still miss something once its posted. :P)

Hushed whispers filled the first floor of the Brighton home as the rays of the rising sun started to peak over the horizon. The coffee machine was brewing, and a large cup hot water sitting next to the machine was turning dark from a submerged tea bag. “Seán, you told me you were going out drinking with your friends last night.” Signe had her arms crossed as she leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. Jack was leaning against the opposite counter, and he rubbed the palm of his hands into his eyes. 

 

“I know, Signe, and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how bad the situation was. Everything happened so fast, and I had to act. I just- I needed to know if Mark had actually been … well … and If he wasn’t, then I wasn’t going to bring it up.” Jack looked up at Signe. “You’ve been through all of this once before. I didn’t want you to relive it - even if you don’t remember the first time.”

 

Signe sighed, uncrossed her arms, and let her hands rest on her hips. “I know, Seán, I know. It’s just when you tell me you’re going out with friends, and then hours later you suddenly appear, literally, out of nowhere with,” Signe gestured to the stairs that lead to the second floor, “whoever they are-- Seán, they were on their deathbed! Why didn’t you take them to the hospital?”

 

“You know why I couldn’t.” The coffee had finished brewing, and Jack fetched himself a cup from the kitchen cabinet. Similarly, Signe finished prepping her tea, and they both took a sip of their morning beverages. Jack looked into the palm of his free hand and stared at something that wasn’t there. “Their wounds are more than just physical. Wounds caused by abnormal means can’t simply be healed by modern science.  Those two no longer are fully human. They’re…,” Jack curled his fingers into a fist.

 

“They’re like  _ them _ , aren’t they?,” Signe guessed what Jack failed to say. Jack nodded in response. He held his cup with both hands and took another sip of coffee. “What’s going to happen to Mark, Seán?”

 

Jack turned to look at the outside world through his kitchen window. “Nothing will happen to him if I have anything to say about it, but,” Jack sighed, “It really depends on those two. I can’t save Mark all by myself. I need those two to help me out.” Jack looked over his shoulder towards the stairs. “I just hope they agree.” Signe walked over to Jack, and Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. “I’m sorry I lied last night. I never meant to hurt you. I was just hoping that when I saw those grey eyes… that it was just my imagination.” Jack kissed the top of Signe’s head as she wrapped her free arm around his waist. “I just had to be sure. I’m sorry.”

 

Signe nuzzled her face into his chest before settling her gaze through the kitchen window. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” They let the silence fill the room for a brief moment before Signe spoke again, “What happens now?”

 

Jack took a moment to ponder his answer, “Well, you know the story of what happened to me, right?” Signe nodded her head in response. “I guess you can say that this is its sequel.”

 

Back in the upstairs guest bedroom, Dark was staring lazily at the ceiling. He had awoken in a cold sweat, the events from the day before carried over into his nightmares, and he found himself lying in a twin-sized bed. His body was covered in bandages, and a cool, damp towel rested on his forehead. It had taken Dark a few seconds, but then he recognised the room he was in from the evening prior. Noting that he wasn’t in any immediate danger, Dark let his body relax into the soft mattress beneath him. 

Dark let his gaze drift from the ceiling over to Wilford who was on another twin bed sleeping peacefully. Well, it was peaceful besides the obnoxious snoring, but who was he to judge? Dark smiled before relaxing his face once more. He removed the towel from his forehead, pushed himself up into a sitting position, and let his back lean against the headboard. Looking down, he took in the condition of his body. His shirt, tie, and suit jacket had been removed. His entire chest and upper left shoulder were wrapped mummy-like with bandages, and a square gauze was taped to the right side of his temple. The bandages were lightly stained with black blood, and they would probably need to be changed soon. Dark was still wearing his black slacks, but his shoes and socks had been removed. Now that he was conscious, he focused some of his own energy into healing his wounds.  Dark admitted that this form did have it’s perks, and he looked back over to Wilford. The comforter covered the man from the waist down, but from what Dark could see, Wilford’s suspenders, shirt, and bowtie had been removed. In exchange, his entire length of his torso and arms were wrapped up in bandages. Wilford had taken a huge beating from fighting the beast, and Dark was surprised that he was breathing as well as he was, considering everything that had happened. 

 

Sighing, Dark grabbed fists full of bedsheets and looked down towards his lap. He started to reflect on the events of last night. His blind rage led them right into the lion’s den, and they had become the hunted. They should’ve died last night, but the Universe must’ve had other plans. 

 

Dark recalled turning to look back towards the alleyway and asking himself “What the hell was  _ that thing? _ ” at the giant green oozing eyeball in the sky. He watched in horror and amazement as a bright neon-green beam shot from it’s pupil, causing a thunderous explosion and all but annihilated his supposably-impenetrable dome. The black shield dissipated into smokey wisps, and he could make out the figure of a man floating in the sky. Dark was too far away to make out much detail. The man finished off the beast, and he sank out of Dark’s line of sight. Dark held his breath as all fell silent and the giant eye in the sky faded from existence. He strained to hear and see anything from the alleyway, and a solid minute passed before one final sound of a wall breaking from an impact hit his ears. Suddenly, a hand landed on Dark’s shoulder causing him to leap about a foot into the air. Dark scrambled for his cane as he turned to face whoever snuck up on them.

 

The green-haired man raised his hands in the air and backed off slightly, “Easy! I’m friend, not foe! I swear on me life!” Dark was breathing heavily as he held the tip of his sword towards the man. After realizing that Dark wasn’t going to immediately attack him, the man continued, “Um. Hi there. I’m the one that saved you. Sorry, we really don’t have much time. We need to get out of here.” Dark didn’t move the blade as he glanced down to the sleeping canine by the green-haired man’s feet. “She’s harmless, now. I promise. Chica won’t hurt you again. What you guys were fighting was some creature that asshole created, but I took care of it.” Dark moved his gaze back up and made eye contact with the other man. One iris was blue where the other iris glowed a light green, but the gaze itself had nothing but warmth and trust within it - something Dark had not seen in decades.

 

Dark lowered his blade and finally responded, “Who are you?” 

 

“You can call me Jack. Nice to meet you.” Jack lowered his hands down to his sides. At that moment, Iplier’s cry of anger reached their ears, and both men turned their attention towards the direction of the alleyway. “I know I’m asking a lot,” Jack continued after a moment, “but I need you to trust me. We need to get out of here now. Take my hand.” Dark stared at the outreached hand for a moment before frowning. He didn’t really have much of a choice. They had lost this battle, and he was in no condition to continue fighting. Dark grabbed Jack’s hand, and Jack grabbed the revolver and tucked in in his hoodie pocket before he reached out for Chica. Jack instructed Dark to grab onto Wilford, and as soon as he’d done so, they vanished from the park. The next instant, their entire party was crashing onto a kitchen table in an unfamiliar home; a woman’s shriek immediately followed. 

 

“Seán?! How- who- what the heck is going on?!” The table legs gave way, and they crashed to the floor; groans of pain were heard throughout the kitchen from the impact. Jack shook his head to clear his mind, and he looked up at the woman. She had dropped her cup out of shock at the sudden appearance of people in her house, and the pieces laid scattered on the tiled floor. “Signe, go to the bathroom and bring me the first aid kit.” The woman, Signe, stuttered for a response, “ _ please, _ Signe!” With that, she nodded and bolted up the stairs to the bathroom. Dark looked up at Jack from his position on the floor. Jack’s breathing was labored, and he was struggling to get to his feet. Even Jack’s power had its limits, he supposed. 

 

Pain shot through Dark’s chest which caused him to cry out and collapse to the floor. He felt Jack flip him onto his back and placed his hand on Dark’s chest wound. A light blue flame-like aura, not green this time, enveloped Jack’s hand and began to sink into Dark’s chest. The sharp pain instantly became a dull ache, and the relief caused Dark’s eyes to roll back into his skull. Dark barely made out Jack telling him that he’ll be alright and to just get some rest before he finally fell into a deep slumber. 

 

Dark’s reminiscing was interrupted by sudden voice crying out in surprise. Wilford scrambled and ended up falling off the farthest end of the other twin bed; the sheets that Wilford grasped in an attempt not to fall got pulled down with him. Dark took in the sight as the white dog stood panting between the two beds. She was facing towards Wilford’s bed, and her tail was swishing back and forth at an amazing speed. Dark didn’t even know that the dog was in here, but he soon spotted a dog bed in the corner of the guest bedroom. Chica quickly rounded the bed, and Wilford let out a totally-manly shriek as he scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall. “Stay away from me, you damn beast!” Dark watched in bewilderment as Wilford tried and failed to hold the hound back as Chica crawled onto his lap and licked his face. 

 

Jack and Signe burst into the room in search of the reason for Wilford’s distress. “What’s wrong?! What happened? Are you guys okay- …. Oh.” Signe was trying her best not to burst into laughter by covering her mouth with her hand. Jack’s previous glowing green eye turned back to his normal baby-blue, and he made no attempt whatsoever to hide his amusement as he burst out into laughter. Dark covered his face with one of his hands, but even he was smiling at Wilford’s misfortune. Chica gave Wilford’s face one more lick before she walked back over to get attention from Dark. Dark gazed down at her, taking in her appearance, and cautiously moved his hand over towards her head. She met his hand halfway and began to nuzzle it. After a moment, Dark began to pet and scratch her head. The fur was smooth and soft to touch. “Easy, Wilford. Apparently, she’s harmless now.”

 

Wilford looked over the bed from his position on the floor; his expression was that of pure shock. “Like hell she is! You saw what she became! You weren’t the one fighting her!” Wilford wiped the slobber from his face with one of his bandaged forearms. He couldn’t really do anything without his revolver, anyway, and it wasn’t in the room. 

 

Jack and Signe were laughing hysterically at this point. Chica left Dark and walked over to Signe. Dark had a smile on his face as he observed the scene before him. 

 

“I promise, she’s just a sweet ol’ doggo. She won’t hurt ye’,” Jack informed Wilford while wiping a tear from his eye. “That not-Mark had implanted his aura into her that would cause her to become … corrupted, for a lack of a better term, whenever not-Mark wanted. I destroyed it, though. She’s her normal, cute self again.” Signe bent down to pet Chica’s ears and face, and Chica licked her nose in response causing Signe to smile with delight. 

 

Wilford brought his attention to the couple. “And who are you suppose to be?”

 

Jack placed his hands on his hips and smiled, “The name’s Jack, and this is my girlfriend Signe.”

 

Dark recalled the man being called by another name. “Didn’t she call you Seán, earlier?”

 

“Oh yeah! Seán is my real name, but basically everyone calls me Jack. Mum always called me that for some reason, and now my youtube community calls me Jack due to the name of my channel.”

 

Dark’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “So you’re also a Youtuber, then. Just like your friend, Mark?”

 

Jack nodded in response. “Yeah, my channel’s name is Jacksepticeye.”

 

“Septiceye,” Dark let the word roll off his tongue. He recalled the giant green eye - the septic infested eye, and scoffed as he put two and two together. “How original.” 

 

Jack laughed, “Yeah, that’s me.” 

 

Wilford sat cross-legged on the floor as he lazily scratched the inside of his ear with his pinky finger. “I still don’t trust that dog…”

 

After Jack and Signe treated and re-bandaged their wounds, they all made their way downstairs. Signe took Chica with her to the grocery store, and Jack brought three cups of coffee into the living room. Dark was sitting back in a recliner with his white button-up draped over his shoulders like a cape, and his cane rested across his lap. Wilford was sitting across from him in another recliner. He was still shirtless, but the bandages covering him might as well have been a turtleneck shirt. The pink suspenders were attached to his tan pants, however, they were off of his shoulders and were laying against his thighs. The barrel of Wilford’s revolver was holstered in the band of his pants at his lower back. Jack, dressed in a light blue t-shirt and grey sweatpants, set the three cups of coffee upon the glass-top coffee table before he sat down on the couch. After everyone had a sip, Jack spoke up, “So, now that you know a little about me, I’d like to ask you guys the same question. Who are you?”

 

Dark held his cup between his hands as he looked towards Wilford. The other man met his gaze before closing his eyes and sipped on his beverage. After a moment, Dark looked back toward Jack and replied, “I go by Dark Iplier now, and this is my partner and old friend, Wilford Warfstache.” Jack made a ‘really?’ face at the last names, but he dared not speak when they both looked at him with a murderous glare. All these decades later and even Dark and Wilford knew how ironic and odd their names were, but they never bothered to change it. After a moment, Dark continued, “Iplier, the man who's currently possessing your friend, had taken our livelihood and everything we lived for.”

 

Wilford sat his empty cup on the table and added to the conversation, “Long story short, we’re hunting him down because we want revenge.” 

 

Jack leaned back against the couch, crossed his arms, and looked up at the ceiling. “Let me guess what the ‘long story’ part is,” Jack suggested. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Iplier, as you call him, is some sort of body hopping entity. He possesses other hosts in order to live as long as possible. However, in order to do so, he must trap the new host’s soul within the old vessel so Iplier’s soul can takeover. He probably doesn’t need permission to enter them anymore, either. How am I doing so far?” Jack never opened his eyes and continued without waiting for an answer. “One of you two, if not both, were his victims. Obviously, now you’re out for revenge.” Dark and Wiford watched the man in bewilderment. How had he known so many details about their situation? They normally took great caution in not talking about their lives in public. Jack leaned forward and opened both of his eyes. “However, this time, for some reason, the transfer didn’t work properly. Something was different this time. Something was there that shouldn’t have been there.” He moved his gaze to stare at Dark.

 

Dark leveled his gaze with Jack. He knew exactly what Jack was talking about. “Correct. Fischbach’s soul didn’t transfer into Iplier’s old corpse. Instead, he became trapped within his own body.”

 

Jack nodded, “That’s the nice way of putting it, I suppose. But, yes. Mark is trapped within Iplier.”

 

Wilford spoke up, “How do you know all of this?” Dark and Wiford stared at Jack as he ran a hand through his own green hair. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath; a slew of emotions crossed over his face. 

 

“Because I was in the exact same situation Mark is now. The two men I’m about to discuss go by the names of Antisepticeye and Dr. Henrik Von Schneeplestein. If we compare my story to Mark’s, then you two are their equivalents.” Dark and Wilford watched Jack in silence as the green-haired man took a moment to reflect back on his memories. Jack opened his eyes again, and both men took in the change of their colors. Jack’s right iris had became green, which Dark had seen before, but what he hadn’t seen before was that the white of Jack’s eye had become black. It was harder to spot the difference in his left eye, but the iris had indeed changed to a more gray shade of blue. Both eyes glowed with their corresponding colored auras. “The only reason I’m here today is because two men sacrificed everything they had to save me. The side effect of the process left me with their powers and strength.”

 

Wilford sat back and took in Jack’s appearance. He could practically feel the intensity of Jack’s strength. On the exterior, Jack was a lean man with a friendly face and a loving charm. The power that thrummed from within, however, made the strength of the Chica’s beast form equivalent to that of a small worker ant. Dark broke his gaze from Jack and finished his cup of coffee. He set it down softly against the glass table. “There’s a reason why you saved us.” It wasn’t a question. 

 

Jack took a deep breath and let his eyes return to normal. “I would be lying if I said that saving you was a completely selfless decision. I want to save Mark, but I know by experience that as it stands now, he won’t make it out alive. I need your help to save him. In exchange, I tell you how to defeat Iplier once and for all.”

 

“What if we refuse?,” Wilford asked, and Jack leveled his stare with his own. 

 

“You will all die,” Jack paused and sighed, “and not necessarily by my hand. There’s a reason you couldn’t beat Iplier yesterday and that’s because Iplier had access to Mark’s soul. The soul is an equivalent to a large power supply, so to speak. Normally, if the soul is quiet, then the possessor doesn’t even notice that it’s there. Unfortunately, Mark isn’t known as the quiet type, and Iplier has discovered this untapped potential. Mark’s soul deteriorates every time Iplier uses it as a source. Now that Iplier is this strong, you probably won’t be able to kill him anyway. If by the off chance that you do succeed in defeating Iplier, he’ll just jump to his next vessel, and all you’ll do is kill Mark.” Jack squeezed his clasped hands together, raised them towards his head, and let his chin rest upon his fingers. “You’ve seen me flight. So I want you to know the full extent of my words when I tell you that I will never allow you to kill Mark.” Dark and Wilford shifted in their seat from Jack’s glare, and the latter instinctively reached for his revolver.

 

“Don’t, Wilford.” Dark raise his hand towards his partner, and Wilford looked down at own his hand in surprise before reholstering the revolver. Lowering his hand, Dark looked back at Jack whose expression remained unchanged. “What do we get out of it if we agree?”

 

Jack’s expression softened. “To answer that question, I have to tell you a disclaimer about the plan. The way to kill Iplier once and for all does not come without sacrifice.” Jack straightened his posture and lifted his cup of coffee up from the coffee table. “The means to defeat Iplier is not a battle of physical combat. It is a battle of spiritual will, literally speaking, and the battlefield is within Mark’s mind.” Jack took a large sip of coffee as Dark and Wilford processed the information. They’d never even considered the possibility of taking the battle to within a vessel. But as they stood now…

 

“In order to do that, he would have to … let us in.” Dark hated using that phrase. “Iplier isn’t the type to give in so easily,” Dark concluded.

 

“True. However, if Mark was the one in control, you would need Mark’s permission, not Iplier’s.” Jack took in the shocked expressions as he continued to sipped on the hot beverage.

 

Dark gripped the armrests of his chair. “You know how to give Fischbach control.” Wilford was very still as he waited for an answer.

 

“I do,” Jack replied, a smile gracing his lips, “and Mark is willing to let you in.”

 

_ Jack, hand plunged into Iplier’s chest, focused his energy into pushing his mind past Iplier’s defences. He searched for Mark through every thought and memory while dodging Iplier’s soul fibers and their futile attempts to stop/capture him. Eventually, he heard the heartbeat and Jack rushed towards the sound. Jack stopped once he reached the heart of the nest. “There ye are.” Jack floated up to Mark and let a hand hover over Mark’s torso. “Hang in there, buddy.” Jack summoned the Doctor’s blue aura and let it surround his hand. Taking a deep breath, Jack placed his hand on Mark’s chest, then pushed further; his hand phased through Mark’s skin. Once Jack could feel Mark’s heart resting against his fingers, the aura intensified and seeped into Mark’s heart. “C’mon, buddy, I know you can hear me. Time to wake up.” Nothing happened for what seemed like eternity and Jack held his breath. He wasn’t too late, was he? _

 

_ Mark’s eyelids flickered once, then twice, and Jack smiled with relief when Mark groaned and started to shift. “Oh thank Jaysus. C’mon buddy, I know it sucks, but you have to pull through.” Jack started to pull his hand back out and let the blue aura flow over Mark’s entire form.  _

 

_ Mark groaned again and rolled his head to one side, “...Jack?” _

 

_ “Hey there, Mark.” Jack watched as Mark cracked one eye open and then the other. “How ya feelin’?”  _

 

_ “Like shit,” Mark chuckled. His strength was slowly coming back, and he was able to raise his head up-right. “What happened? Why are you here?  _ How _ are you here?” _

 

_ “To summarize, you got possessed. Your soul,” Jack gestured to Mark’s form with his free hand, “for some reason didn’t get ejected during the possession process, and the dude that’s possessing you knocked you out because you talk too damn much.” Mark let out a weak protest at the accusation. “I’m here because, well, uh... Let’s just say at one point, Dr. Schneeplestein was actually a real person and he taught me a few tricks.”  _

 

_ Mark stared at him in disbelief. “Did you just tell me one of your egos is real?”  _

 

_ “You’re currently possessed, I’m talking to you through your mind, and the point where you start to question reality is when I ask you to believe that my ego is real? Really?”  _

 

_ Jack had a point.  _

 

_ “I honestly can’t explain right now, but I promise I will once this is all over.” Jack finished healing Mark and dropped his hand away from his chest. “What I did just now was more of a patch job. The possessor is draining your soul, and I can’t stop that directly. I just gave you some energy so you could be conscious again. He did a number on you when he knocked you out.” Jack took a moment to observe the man in front of him.  _

 

_ Mark looked like he could sleep for a thousand years and  _ still _ be tired afterwards. Jack fround and made eye contact with him. “Mark, I need you to listen to me very carefully. As it stands now, there’s no way you can get out of this alive.” Jack watched as surprise and terror crossed Mark’s face. “However, there is one way that you can make it, but we’re gonna need some help.” _

 

_ “How?!” _

 

_ “You’re not gonna like it-” _

 

_ “Dammit, Jack, just tell me!” Mark was panicking.  _

 

_ Jack took a deep breath before continuing, “You’re gonna have to be.. Well… possessed by two other people. Willingly. You have to let them in.” Jack flinched at the glare Mark was giving him. The man could be terrifying when he was legit pissed off. _

 

_ “You can’t be fucking serious. I already have one douchebag hitchhiking around in my body, and you want me to accept two other strangers?!”  _

 

_ Jack raised his hands in defense, “Let me explain! The only way to defeat this guy is to bring the battle to the inside of his own mind!” Seeing that Mark wasn’t going to reply, Jack continued, “Look, right now there are two, well, entities i guess, and they’re pretty strong. If they were able to get inside here, then we all could take him down.” Jack became silent for a moment before he lowered his hands to his sides and frowned.  _

 

_ “...What’s wrong?” Mark looked at Jack, anger becoming replaced with concern.  _

 

_ “It’s what will happen next, Mark,” Jack paused to sigh and then locked eyes with Mark’s. “The battle will be intense, and your spirit is already straining at the presence of two souls occupying your body. Having the equivalent of four souls will cause your own spirit to shatter.”  _

 

_ Jack watched helplessly as series of emotions crossed Mark’s face. It went from shock to anger before settling on heartbreak. Mark looked down and away from Jack’s gaze. “You said I wouldn’t die.”  _

 

_ “That’s where those other two come into play.” Mark raised his head once more. “The moment you let them in, they will no longer be able to return to their physical forms. Once the battle is over, they’ll have to make a choice. They either die with you,” Jack let his green and blue-grey eye glow, and Mark looked at him in surprise, “or they become a part of you.” _

 

_ “...What happened to you, Jack?”  _

 

_ Jack ignored the question, “The best analogy is that they use their remaining strength to sew the pieces of your shattered spirit back together to keep it from collapsing, and thus, dying.”  _

 

_ After a moment, Mark looked away and processed the information given to him. No matter what choice he took, it sounded like he was going to be boned in the end. Mark hated this. He never asked for this. For the longest time, he wished that he was just having another nightmare, but as of now he didn’t even know how long he’d been stuck here. Had it been days? Months? He missed so many people. He missed Chica, Amy, Tyler, Ethan, Kathryn, Bob, Wade, his moms, his brother, his fans, and his life. Mark couldn’t see anything in his current state; he could only sense it through Iplier. That bastard … he took away everything Mark had ever lived-- _

 

_ Jack watched as Mark clenched his fists and his shoulders began to shake. Mark bit his lip as tears formed from underneath his closed eyelids. Jack looked down at his own hands as Mark cried. He could make out the faint outline of Anti’s clawed hand on one of them while the other faint outline was that of a blue medical glove. Jack knew the situation wasn’t fair for Mark. It wasn’t fair for anyone in this situation. Jack wouldn’t have wished this fate on his worst enemy. When Mark looked back up at Jack, his damp eyes seemed to be burning with passion and determination, but a hint of doubt was still there. “If I do this, how do I know this will work?” _

 

_ Gesturing to himself, Jack replied, “Consider me living proof.”  _

 

Dark stared at Jack as he told the tale of events that transpired back in the alley while Wilford had stood up with his hands in his pockets and was staring through the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. They both processed the information in silence. After a moment, Dark spoke up, “You’re telling us that if we follow this plan, then Wilford and I will die no matter what the outcome. If that’s the case, why would we even bother to save Mark?”

 

Jack nodded in understanding and looked down into his coffee; his reflection staring back at him. “There’s one last thing that happens no matter the outcome. I’m not really sure how it works, but it does happen and, as far as I know, it’s unavoidable.” Jack looked back up at Dark. “If you save Mark by bonding your soul’s with his, then he will have your memories.” Jack made sure he had both of their attentions before finishing, “You’ll be remembered when the rest of the world will have forgotten that you even existed.”

 

_ “What do you mean the world will ‘reset’?,” Mark asked Jack in astonishment. _

 

_ “The same thing that’s happening to you happened to me, Mark, and Signe had been there through the whole ordeal. She couldn’t do much, but she helped Anti and Henrik by doing anything she could. When it was all over, I woke up in my house - which was weird since I was in America when everything took place. I found Signe in the kitchen making breakfast. She asked me if I had partied too much the night before with some of my buddies.”  _

 

_ Jack paused.  _

 

_ “Signe didn’t remember anything. No one did. That’s when I checked my phone to see that I’d been sent back three years prior to my possession. I was terrified at the thought that I’d have to relive it all over again. However, the day came and went, Anti and Henrik never showed, I didn’t get re-possessed, and life went on. I’m not sure what compelled me to check, but I tried to find any historical records on Anti’s or the Doctor’s old lives. Not one shread of proof that they existed was anywhere to be found. I was the only one who remembered them. I almost thought that I somehow had dreamed the entire thing, but one night I was running behind, and I had thought that I was going to miss my flight. I was panicking because this was the one flight I couldn’t miss. I remember blinking, then the next thing I knew, I was standing outside of the airport. I could see my green eye glowing in the reflection of a nearby window. I knew then that what had happened to me wasn’t a dream, but that the world had simply forgotten. After I boarded the flight, I really started to reflect on what had happened to me. I knew all of their memories, and they had one shared fear that was more prominent than any other memory.”  _

 

_ Jack refocused his gaze to Mark. “They didn’t want to be forgotten. They had saved my life when they didn’t have to. I owed them a lot. That’s when I got the idea to dress up and portray them on my channel. I knew how they’d act and behave, and I dressed and performed accordingly. The community loved it and the love for the two characters spread like wildfire.” Jack smiled at the memory of first introducing Antisepticeye and Dr. Schneeplestein. “I couldn’t force the world to remember, but I helped the world love them all the same. If I had died, I’m not sure that even I would’ve been remembered.” _

 

_ Mark listened to the entire thing before lowering his gaze towards his feet. “Jack, I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?”  _

 

_ “I eventually told Signe what happened. Since she was a part of everything, it made the situation difficult to keep secret. I didn’t tell anyone else because I felt that those series of events wasn’t how Anti and Henrik wanted to be remembered. That, if anything, it was the one thing they didn’t want people to remember.” _

 

_ Mark nodded. “I’m still not sure what all is going on, but I’m starting to understand.”  _

 

_ Jack nodded back. “Now that you know what’s at risk, Mark ….what will you do?” _

 

_ Mark’s expression remained neutral as he considered his options.  _

 

After explaining everything, Jack left Dark and Wilford alone to process the information he had given them; he retreated back into his studio to record some videos because the rest of the world did not stop due to their dilemmas, and he had fans to please. Wilford opened the sliding door and walked outside, and Dark soon followed him.

 

It was late morning, and the air was cool on Dark’s skin. Dark wandered across the wooden deck and descended its steps. He felt the damp droplets that clung to the blades of green grass beneath his bare feet, and the cold temperature caused him to shiver and form goosebumps on his skin. Once he reached the small garden, Dark took a deep breath. He could smell the various scents of primroses, foxgloves, and honeysuckle flowers. Dark could hear the sounds of robins and sparrows greeting the morning sun, and his hand brushed along the nearby shrubbery. His eyes have seen so much over the course of so many years, but Dark realised that he never took the time to actually stop and actually  _ see _ the outside world. It was vibrant and alive. 

 

Wilford sat sideways on the steps of the porch and let his back lean against the supporting rails. He looked up at the sky - had it always been so blue? - and watched as white wisps of clouds drifted overhead. Wilford’s hand was resting on the porch while his thumb rubbed back and forth over the rough surface. The cool breeze kicked up and blew against his face, and Wilford closed his eyes briefly in response. He watched as a small sparrow fluttered and land a few feet away from him. After watching it for a moment, he reached around, quietly withdrew his revolver from his waistband, and aimed the barrel towards the sparrow. It would be so easy to extinguish it’s little life; it would allow Wilford to outlive one more thing before his demise.

 

He never pulled the trigger.

 

The small bird observed the gun for a moment before it flapped its wings and landed on the barrel. Wilford didn’t move a muscle as he watched the sparrow start to groom itself. After looking back at Wilford once more, the sparrow flew away and up into a tree top, and the man lowered his gun as he watched it disappear into the branches. Wilford didn’t move his gaze as Dark made his way back onto the porch and placed his hands against the railing. 

 

Dark pondered their options. As it stood now, he and Wilford probably couldn’t take Iplier down by pure physical strength alone even with Chica out of the picture. Besides, what was stopping Iplier from taking over another animal? They’d be back to square one. Jack would make a great ally, but it was clear from last night that even Jack’s abilities took a toll on his body. The man had told them that he’d get them inside to fight within the mind, but it would cost them their own lives. Dark glanced over to Wilford; the man was looking at his revolver with a lazy stare. While observing the man, Dark reflected back on his old life as Mayor. He remembered his grad school and college days, he remembered hanging out with the Colonel, he remembered Celine, and he remembered…. Dark sighed as he looked down at his hands. He remembered his dear friend that he trapped in the mirror. Dark wondered briefly if they were still there. They never did go back to that place, and he wondered if the mansion was still standing. 

 

He had lived a long life - both of them have.

 

He was tired. Dark looked back and took in Wilford’s appearance. They both were tired. 

 

“Wilford, may I ask you a question?” Wilford looked back at Dark in response. “Do you regret any choices we’ve made? We’ve killed many people. Sure, they were criminals or disgusting vermin, but they were people nonetheless.” Dark looked back out over the green lawn before him. “Have we really lived a life any better than Iplier?”

 

Wilford scoffed, and Dark turned back to him in confusion. “First off, that’s more than one question, and secondly, I’m insulted that you’d even compare us to that sly bastard, so how dare you, sir.” Wilford stretched his arms before his head, letting his back crack as his revolver sat on his lap. “We’ve known each other, including that devil, since we were still in our diapers, Dark. Even though it was more naive times back then, we all still had our different reasons for living.” Wilford paused for a moment as he reflected back on some memories. “Okay, so we haven’t been exactly the fitting image of ‘societies social norm’ or whatever,” Wilford quoted the words with his fingers, “but if we place it on the ‘bad guys’ scale, then I believe our reasons are justified.” 

 

Dark was dumbfounded. “How do you mean?”

 

 “It’s simple. We hunt the guilty, and he hunts the innocent,” Wilford replied all matter-of-fact like. “...Okay, not including wildlife. I was just straight-up hunting them. As for if I have any regrets?” Wilford paused for a moment. “....Just one comes to mind.”

 

“..May I ask what it is?”

 

“You know what it is, Dark,” Wilford spat, “We’ve already had this conversation. For the life of me, I still don’t understand why you haven’t killed me for it.” A look of understanding passed over Dark’s face and turned away. 

 

“Iplier had been planning it for years.”

 

“Yes, but you know damn well that I started it.” Wilford clenched his fists. “It all started because I couldn’t…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Minutes passed before either one spoke again.

 

“William couldn’t,” Dark corrected him. Wilford looked up at the sound of Dark’s voice, and his brow narrowed together in confusion. Dark was looking down at his hands resting against the railing. “That was William who did those things years ago. Just as it was Damien who believed that he could fix everything because a friend like Iplier would never betray him.” Dark looked back over towards Wilford. “Wilford, I didn’t kill you because I am not the person that you hurt. The pain that I feel now, the anger, the darkness that’s within my heart - that makes up every fiber of my being - there isn’t one ounce of it that’s directed towards you. I’ve had many years to think it over, and no matter how many times that I’ve reflected on the events, the resulting hatred that coursed through my veins always ended up being directed for my desire to kill Iplier.” Dark gave Wilford a soft smile. “I cannot speak for my old self anymore, but I believe that my former-self would’ve forgiven you.”

 

Wilford was still with shock. “...and what about you? Do you forgive me?”

 

“You have never done anything to me that would require you to ask for my forgiveness, Wilford. The memorial we had for our old lives has put all of those thoughts to rest. Let them lay.” 

 

Wilford and Dark stared at each other for a long while, but Wilford could not find evidence that Dark was hiding behind his words in any way. Moving from shock to a more serious nature, Wilford asked a series of questions in response. “Do you have any regrets, Dark? Do you hate what we’ve become? Do you hate that we’ve became killers?” 

 

Dark looked away and up towards the sky and pondered for a moment. “I don’t believe that I do, Wilford. As I’ve stated earlier, this is who I am now. I was practically formed into it by the events at the mansion.”

 

Wilford sighed. He remembered when they hunted down some juveniles for the first time. Their lead had once again went cold, this had been the fifth time when they’d gotten so close before coming up to a dead end. They had gotten frustrated over the first few years, and the desire to draw blood had reached a boiling point. Damien had always told William that they had to be smart and blend in with society; that to give into it would be their downfall. Now, though, coming up empty handed once again brought Damien to the breaking point. They took a turn down an alleyway and were jumped by a few thugs armed with knives and a gun. One of them grabbed Damien by the shoulder and demand money. There was a brief pause before he watched Damien finally snap. The blade was withdrawn from its sheath, and three of the four men’s heads were decapitated before William even had a chance to withdraw his gun from its holster. The fourth thug backed away in fear, pissing his pants, and Dark rammed the tip of the blade through the poor bastard’s skull. He withdrew his sword and let the body collapse to the ground. William felt more surprised than scared at what he witnessed, but when Damien turned to look back at him, William’s blood ran cold with fear. Damien’s eyes reflected that of a killer - a serial killer. Though William swore that Damien had never slaughtered anyone before that night, he gave off the presence of a veteran assassin. “Let’s go,” Damien had said to him, and with that, he turned back and started walking down the rest of the alleyway. 

 

Wilford was pretty sure that it was at that moment that he started to sense the true level of madness and desire that made the man that Dark was today. It was that Darkness that made him want to see where it led, even if it killed him.

 

“As I think back on it now, though, I may have one regret, Wilford.” Dark had been quiet for awhile, and Wilford turned his attention back at the man. “There is a small part of my old life that’s buried inside me that wished I took a little more time to observe the world around me.”

 

“I thought you hated humanity,” Wilford replied.

 

“Humanity is such a small part of what this world is.” Dark gestured to the surrounding backyard. It had been well kept: the garden was in full bloom, the lawn was a uniform shade of a healthy, vibrant green, and the deck and surrounding area had a warm, welcoming feel to it. “Though humans tend to ignore it, this planet is still alive. We’ve chased our revenge to all corners of the Earth, yet I never really stopped to look at it. That is something that a small part of my old life regrets. Because the way I am now, I don’t think that I can ever fully appreciate it again. The rest of me simply doesn’t care.” 

 

Wilford was silent for a moment as he processed what Dark had said. “We still have a choice, Dark. We don’t have to go after him. We can still live.” He know what he offered, but Wilford already knew what his answer would be. 

 

Dark kept his gaze steady towards the yard, and his voice was even and smooth. “I’ve already have one regret, Wilford. I will not let him be another.” Whether Dark was referring to Mark or Iplier, Wilford wasn’t sure. It could very well be that it was both. 

 

“So. What do you want to do then, Dark? It sounds like time is of most importance, now, judging by that green-haired fellow’s story.” 

 

_ Jack observed Mark; the man had been quiet for some time. “...Mark?” _

 

_ “I don’t want to be stuck in here anymore, Jack.” Mark looked up towards the man before him. “I really hate the other options I have, but I don’t want him to walk around running my life that I had built. I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. I want him to stay away from my fans, I want him to stay away from my friends and family, and I want him to stay away from Chica.” Jack stayed silent. “I can’t stay here like this. If this is the only way to get rid of this son-of-a-bitch, then do it. I give them permission to enter as long as they kick his ass and get me the hell out of here.” _

 

Wilford watched as Dark turned towards him. “I want to kill Iplier. I’ve come too far to back down now. I’ll take him down even if it kills me.” Dark reached out his hand. “I know we’ve come a long way together, Wilford, but I ask for your assistance one more time. Will you help me?” 

 

_ Jack smiled. “You got it, buddy.” A bolt of pain shot through Jack and he cursed, “Dammit. Sorry, Mark, I can’t stay here much longer. I gotta go, but I promise you. Help is on the way, so hang in there, okay?” _

  
  


The other man observed the outstretched hand and grinned. “I’ll follow you into the deepest pits of Hell. I always have and always shall.” He grasped Dark’s hand with his own. “I’ve accepted my fate a long time ago, my good man. Let’s go kill this son-of-a-bitch.” 

 

_ Mark nodded in response, and Jack started to leave. “Hey, Jack, do me a favor?” Jack turned back to look at Mark. “Round-house kick that bastard in the face for me.” Jack looked back at him in surprise before bursting out in laughter.  _

 

_ “It’d be my pleasure.” _

 

Jack and Signe were standing by the open sliding door as they smiled at the men’s interaction, and Chica was sitting by Jack’s legs. Jack straightened up as the other two men noticed them. Dark released Wilford’s hand and walked over towards him. “Looks like we don’t have any other choice. Will you help us?”

 

Jack smiled with relief and took a breath to answer, but suddenly both Dark and Jack snapped their attention towards the West. After a brief moment, Jack cursed under his breath. 

 

“Seán, what’s wrong?” 

 

“What do you sense, Dark?”

 

Dark glowered into the distance. Instinctively, he unsheathed his blade part way. Jack spoke up without breaking his gaze from the horizon, “Man, he wasted no time getting here, didn’t he?” 

 

Signe gasped as she understood. “No way...” Wilford figured it out as well, and he cocked back the hammer on his gun. 

 

Dark turned to fully face the horizon, “I’m afraid so.”

 

At Brighton City Airport, a man wearing a sleeveless dark gray hoodie, jeans, hiking boots, sunglasses, and a baseball cap de-boarded from the plane and made his way toward the terminal exit. The man looked towards a window as he walked and saw his reflection. The whites of his eyes had turned bright red with rage, and his irises were grey. He growled under his breath.

 

“You’ve escaped me for the last time, Damien.” Iplier left the airport and headed into the depths of the city of Brighton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! There will be at least two more chapters after this, depending on what content I want to add in the future chapters. They should be up within the next week if not the next few days.
> 
> Thank you! I always love feedback. Let me know what you think!


	5. How to go in for the Final Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, so for this to work, you have to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay!!!! T^T Omg, this chapter just did NOT want to be written!! But I finally DID IT. 
> 
> Thank balls, too, because that was driving me nuts. 
> 
> I have one more chapter after this for this story. Enjoy!~
> 
> (Sorry for the grammatical errors. There's only so many I can catch before going cross-eyed..)

     Early evening had come as the team finished prepping for the inevitable battle. Jack had changed into a dark sweatshirt and a pair of black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees. Dark and Wilford had re-dressed into their original attire. They were all standing on the porch discussing last minute details when Signe came up to Jack and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face her and sighed when he saw the tears in her eyes.

   

    “I don’t like this. I’m scared,” muttered Signe. Jack reached up to wipe the tears away before he placed his hands on her shoulders.

   

    “I know. I’ll be safe, I promise. I’ll be back in time for breakfast. You won’t even know that I was gone,” Jack offered as a smile formed on his lips. Signe noted that his smile didn’t quite match his eyes, and said as much. Jack frowned in response and pulled her close before wrapping her arms around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head as Signe wrapped her own arms around his back. “I don’t regret anything, Signe.”

 

    Dark raised his eyebrow at the unexplained statement, but decided to turn around and give the couple their privacy. He walked over to the railing that Wilford was leaning against.

 

    “You better come back to me, Seán McLoughlin,” Signe whispered into Jack’s chest. Jack pulled away and leaned down to kiss her.

   

    “Always will, Signe Hansen.” He hugged and kissed her one last time before pulling away. Chica appeared by her feet, and Jack leaned down and petted the pup. “Your dad will be so excited to see you! He’ll be home soon, ‘kay?”

 

    Both men watched as Jack stood back up and made his way towards them. Jack’s irises went from baby blue to their respective green and grey-blue. “Are you two ready?,” Jack asked. Both men nodded, and all three turned back to look at Signe and Chica. Jack gave them one last sincere smile before he turned back and grabbed Dark and Wilford’s shoulder.

 

    Signe’s breath caught in her throat as they vanished. Chica nuzzled her hand, and she looked down at the dog before looking back up at the empty porch. “Please be careful.”

 

    Wilford and Dark looked around at their new surroundings. Jack had brought them to an open grass field a few miles out of town. Both Jack and Dark could still sense Iplier in the distance, and he was growing ever closer. They figured that they had about a half hour until he had reached their location. Jack was picking some lint off of his sleeve when Wilford turned to stare at him quizzically. He didn’t say anything, and his stare made Jack shift back and forth uncomfortably. “W-what?”

 

    Wilford studied him for another moment before replying, “What are your abilities, anyway? You seemed to be able to do a lot of things.” Dark turned toward Jack as he was curious about how the green-haired man would answer.

 

    Jack rubbed his arm as he looked to the side.

 

    Wilford scowled at him, “I understand about personal life bullcrap, but we’re about to go into battle. I need to know what kind of weapons we have at our disposal. Start talking.”

 

    Jack flinched at being called a ‘weapon’ before he sighed and turned back to the two men. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Jack cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders before continuing. “Anti is really good at affecting the physical world. The best way to describe it is that if the physical plane is a computer program, then Anti is the virus. He can’t really go back in time, but he can kind of make a small amount of time skip over itself. I did it to Iplier when I ended up talking to Mark.”

 

    Dark spoke up, “I found it odd that you had such a deep conversation with Fischbach when it seemed you weren’t gone more than a minute.”

 

    Jack nodded in response. “It basically leaves the surrounding area paralyzed, but in reality they’re just living the same moment over and over. Anti can work within the time glitch and is, therefore, not affected.”

 

    “How were you able to talk to Mark, then? Was he not affected by that time loop?,” Wilford asked.

   

    “As much as a it seemed like a physical place, communicating with someone’s soul is on the mental and spiritual level - for lack of better terms. That realm is a whole ‘nother beast in itself; time doesn’t operate the same way as it does out here. I could hold an entire press conference in less than a millisecond in there, if I desired. It comes in handy.” Jack took a breath before continuing, “Speaking of the ‘spiritual’ level, that is more of Henrik’s domain.”

 

    “You’re referring to the doctor, correct?,” asked Dark.

 

    Jack nodded in reply. “Yeah, that’s right. As mad and crazy as he his, Henrik is still a doctor. He has the ability to heal auras, I guess? Like, we heal quicker than most, but even people like us can get the shite beat out of our arses. Recovering on our own is possible to a certain extent, but like the real world, having a doctor fix you up helps with the recovery process. Make sense?” Jack watched as Dark and Wilford nod in reply. “And, as I said before, he was an actual doctor, too. Having access to his memories allows me to help your external wounds heal. It saves some awkward trips to the hospital.”

 

    Dark and Wilford nodded in understanding as they started to grasp how diverse Jack’s strength ranged. They wished they had met Anti and the Doctor at some point during their hunt, but they must’ve just missed one another over the years. Wilford wanted to challenge those two to a duel when Dark wanted to understand the other creatures who were just like them. Up until a few days ago, Dark thought it was only Iplier, Wilford, and himself that had this form of existence.

 

    Jack looked down at his hands and flexed them before looking back up at the two men. “Now that I’ve explained how they operate separately, I’ll tell you how I can used them combined.” Dark and Wilford looked at him in surprise. There was even more to this man? “By taking advantage of controlling the physical and mental realm at the same time, I can perform ‘surgery’.”

 

    They stared at him in shock. “.... come again?,” asked Wilford.

 

    “Right. You were knocked out, but I think Dark was able to see it even from a distance. Do you remember my battle with Chica? I pulled something out of her back, remember?” Recognition crossed Dark’s face as he recalled the green flames and how they had a blue-ish hue.

 

    “I thought that was just a trick of the light. What did you do?,” Dark asked.

 

    “Well... Performed surgery. I opened up the beast's back, grabbed the virus, destroyed it, and healed Chica - in that order.” Jack stared at the men as they stared back at him.

   

    Wilford spoke, “... Fascinating.”

 

    “It definitely has its perks,” Jack replied in agreement.

 

    All three remained silent for a while as they watched a red glow in the distance appear over the horizon. Jack reflected on the life back home that he had with Signe, Dark mentally processed the information about Jack’s abilities and how to best use them in the upcoming battle, and Wilford twirled his revolver between his fingers.

 

    “As diverse as my powers are, I still have a human body,” Jack added, “The events of last night … pushed me to my limits.”

 

    Dark’s attention focused on Jack. “...Have you recovered?”

 

    Jack kept his eyes on the horizon; avoiding Dark’s stare. That was enough of an answer.

 

    Wilford watched as Dark became instantly enraged, stormed over to the green-haired boy, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him forward to where they were nose to nose. “Are you fucking serious right now?!” Jack flinched as Dark yelled at his face. “How are you suppose to fight with us in your condition? I can’t have a broken pawn assisting me!”

 

    “I’ll be fine,” Jack replied quietly.

 

    “The chain is only as strong as the weakest link. I need you to fight at maximum capacity.” Jack’s gaze remained neutral as Dark’s more furious side showed; eyes black, fangs out, and nails black. “You will not go back on our deal, you fucking Irishman--”

 

    Suddenly, Anti’s power bursts to life, and Jack’s right clawed hand shot up and gripped one of Dark’s wrist to the brink of breaking the bones underneath the skin. Jack’s right eye came alive with a green flame. Whites of his eyes turned black, and his own fangs peeked through his lips.

   

    Wilford watched passively as Dark and Jack stared each other down; neither backing down from their stance, and both of them were equally enraged. After a moment, Jack spoke in a whisper, “I’ll get you in there. I promised I would. I’m not breaking any deal, so don’t you go accusing me of nothing. Yes, I’m not fully recovered, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely useless.” Jack gripped Dark’s wrist even tighter and the other man loosened his grip but didn’t let go completely. “You let me worry about what I’m risking for doing this. I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew I couldn’t get ya in.” Dark watched as Jack’s other eye changed and glow it’s own grey-blue flame. The hand around Dark’s wrist retracted its claws and matched the blue flame; he felt his bruised wrist begin to heal the under the blue glow. “I got you.”

 

     Dark, regaining control of his anger, looked into Jack’s mismatched eyes before releasing his grip and pulling away. Jack let go of Dark’s wrist in return. Dark smoothed out his suit jacket and turned away. “Don’t waste your energy on me. That weak grip isn’t going to slow anybody down.”

 

    “Hate to break you two up, but we got company comin’,” Wilford interjected as he pointed towards the horizon with the barrel of his gun. The red glow had become larger. It looked like the light from a wildfire against the setting sun, but they knew better. At the base of the glow was a small black silhouette of a figure. They all shared a glance with each other before Jack stepped forward ahead of them by a few feet.

 

    Jack turned back to them and smiled. “Now or never. Good luck, gentlemen.” By the time the two men blinked, Jack had disappeared, and the start of a green dome shot out from a high point in the sky. It raced across the blue expanse of the sky and arched both over the red glow and way back behind the two men before its ends met the surface of the earth. The instant the dome was formed, the giant septiceye appeared above their heads.

 

    Dark observed the eyeball above them. Now that he had a better look at it, Dark now understood how no news outlet called out any sightings of the giant orb last night; it was hidden beneath Jack’s dome. “So, this is how you got in,” Dark stated, mainly to himself.

 

    Domes were a tricky thing. True, nothing could get in or out of them, but Dark theorised that if one would create a larger dome over the previous one, then the strength of the smaller dome now fell under its spell. Thus, if the eyeball Dark saw was a creation of Jack’s dome that night, then Dark’s dome was just a thing Jack could now manipulated. However, Jack had mentioned to him that it was still a struggle to break into Dark’s dome, thus his dome still had some effect. Did the integrity of the domes have something to do with their own strengths? Dark was strong, but having his ass kicked six ways to Sunday must’ve made his strength weak enough for Jack to finally burst through and … save them. Having his ass kicked ended up saving both Dark and Wilford’s life.

 

    Dark grinned evilly while he glared up at the eye above him, simultaneously amused and pissed at how they got into this situation with the green-haired man. As if in response, the light reflection on the eye shimmered before the eye faded away completely. The green dome became nearly transparent. They could barely make it out, but there was a green tint still there against the sky.

 

    A burst of red flame ignited in the distance and the glow increased ten-fold. Dark and Wilford turned to face the approaching threat. Iplier had spotted them. Dark’s shadows emerged from his feet, and Wilford loaded his gun.

 

    They didn’t budge as Iplier let out a large wave of red flame as soon as he stepped onto the grassy field. The flame rushed passed them as it consumed and killed every single blade of grass. The flames around them raged until every form of life had turned to ash, and the earth below them had charred. Iplier’s red eyes never broke contact with the both sets of pitch black and brown ones.

 

    Iplier tossed his shoulder travel bag to the side once he was about 20 feet away from them and stopped. His appearance was hardly human anymore; the whites of his eyes were bloodshot-red, and the irises were the same grey as Dark’s. Fangs shown from beneath his upper lip as he snarled, the muscles underneath Iplier’s skin looked like white-hot coals, and his fingers were elongated red talons.  His sleeveless sweater, jeans, and shoes were the only human thing left. All three men stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity and said nothing.

 

    A swirl of ash passed between them, and the battle was on.

 

    Multiple spears of red flame launch towards them. Dark blocked them with his shadows and sword, and Wilford fires a series of shots before both men jump out of the way of the remaining spears. The tips crash into the ground and rip up large chunks of earth causing the ground beneath them to become uneven and jagged. Dark lands on a chunk of earth and repositions himself before launching at Iplier, sword drawn back for a swing. Iplier parries with his claws against each swing of the blade before landing a kick against Dark’s gut. Dark is sent flying. Wilford appears at Iplier’s side and fires, emptying the chamber of his gun as Iplier forms a half semicircle shield of his own aura to protect himself from the reign of bullets. Iplier glances behind him as he sensed the presence of black shadows racing across the ground. The shadows shoot up towards Iplier aiming right for his neck. Iplier throws his head back in a last second dodge, and the shadows graze the hairs of his chin.

 

    Iplier bounces back to regroup and observes the two men as they do the same. He smirks and raises his hand into the air. “Time to change tact,” Iplier states as he slams his clawed hand into the ground. Instantly, the earth beneath their feet begin shake and large spears of aura and flame burst through its surface. The tips reached high into the air before turning and nose diving straight towards Dark and Wilford.

 

    Both men dodged, blocked, and ran from the never ending assault of spiked flames. The tips would attack and retract at the speed of a needle on a sewing machine. Iplier’s maniacal laughter rang out against the sound of crumbling earth, clash of a sword, and gunshots.

 

    Dark saw the glow beneath Iplier’s skin was pulsating and cursed under his breath. “He’s draining Mark’s soul. Wilford, we have to get into him before there’s nothing left to use!”

 

    “I know that!,” Wilford yelled back, “I’m open to suggestions if you have any!” Wilford jumped out of the way of two more spikes.

 

    Dark unbuttoned his suit jacket and undid his tie, throwing both garments to the side. They quickly became destroyed by the flames as he dodged the incoming attack. “Go all out, Wilford.” Dark let his own aura consume him as his skin became the color of ash, black nails elongated into claws, fangs grew from his mouth as Dark snarled, and the pupils of his eyes became slits. “Hold nothing back.” The base of a spear crashed into the ground near Dark’s left side, and without looking towards it, he swung his left hand back let his claws shear the tendril in half. The red aura spazzed before diminishing completely. Dark snarled as Iplier watched, still laughing as the two men ‘danced’ before him.

 

    Dark launched a series of attacks, both shadow and sword, onto Iplier. Iplier dodged and focused fighting Dark; the distraction caused the spikes above their head to slow down slightly. At one point, Dark gets shoved back, and Iplier starts to launch forward for a counter attack before stopping just short of being struck by the blast of a shotgun.

 

    Both Dark and Iplier bring their attention towards Wilford. The man was no longer holding a revolver, but instead he had re-equipped with a shotgun. The space surrounding the weapon was glowing a bright pink. The top portion of his hair and the irises of his eyes also turned into an equivalent shade of pink. Wilford reloaded and took another shot at Iplier, breaking their trance and causing the targeted man to jump away. Wilford beamed at Dark’s confused gaze. “What? You said to hold nothing back!”

 

    Dark straightened his posture and looked back at Wilford in astonishment. “How long have you been able to summon guns?”

 

    Wilford looked down at the gun before looking back up to Dark. He smiled and shrugged, “I haven’t the faintest idea!”

 

    Dark scoffed at the response before letting his own shadows crawl up his own body and surround the sword in darkness - reinforcing the blade. Dark focused his own energy until it reached his peak performance; red and blue shell cracked in and out of existence as black shadows whipped around his frame.

 

    Iplier’s eyes narrowed as he took in the two men’s change in form; he clenched his fists together. “Don’t get cocky,” announced Iplier as he watched Dark become a black blur; the man moved at an inhuman speed with intention of demolishing the never-ending spikes, “You haven’t beaten me.” Iplier flexed his fingers as the bases of his spikes are sliced in two; Dark’s path eventually making a bee-line right for Iplier. Wilford takes aim with his shotgun and starts to squeeze the trigger. “ **_I’m not done yet!_ ** ” His right palm, suddenly turned upward, thrusts into the sky. A series of spider-web like strings shoot up from the earth below and quickly bound Dark and Wilford within its grasp. Dark struggled as the binds tightened and forced him to drop his sword. Wilford’s fingers are spread apart by the strings and his gun is ripped from his grip. Both are lifted into the air, and their arms become bound to their side. Final bindings wrap around their neck, and their entire body starts to be crushed by the strings.

 

    Iplier pants from exertion, right hand still raised in the air and fingers spread as his fingers glow red; he starts to laugh as he watches Dark and Wilford struggle. “Woo! Wow, kudos to you both, I must say. Without my pet around, you two actually made me break a sweat. I haven’t had a workout like that in ages. However, I think I’ve had about all the fun I can get out of this little reunion. You’ve become more of a pain in my ass than I care to admit, and now you’re in my way.” Iplier snapped his fingers with his free hand, and two more spikes raised from the ground and took aim at each bound man. “Toodles~.”

 

    Large pools of red blood splattered against the charred earth as the wet sound of torn flesh and cracking of bones met their ears. Dark’s and Wilford’s eyes had widened and jaws hung open in shock. They stared at a set of claws piercing through a chest.

 

    Jack’s chest.

 

    Iplier’s clawed hand was extended out behind his back, clawed fingers had been shoved deep into Jack’s flesh as the green-haired man was suspended in mid air. Jack’s right clawed hand gripped Iplier’s wrist as his left was frozen in mid lunge towards Iplier’s neck. Dark and Wilford watched in horror and shock as blood filled Jack’s mouth. Iplier’s fingers dug deeper into his chest causing Jack to hack and cough wetly at the impalement. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Septiceye,” Iplier said as he slowly turned his head towards Jack. Jack’s aura, once a bright flame, was diminishing to the glow of a dull ember. “That trick only works once, you piece of shit.”

 

    Dark’s mind ran a million miles an hour as he watched the life start to leave Jack’s eyes. No. No, no, nonono - this can’t be happening. Septiceye was suppose to get them inside. Septiceye was their only way in! Dark’s teeth ground together as Jack’s body became more limp.

 

    Iplier began to laugh hysterically. “Was that it!? That’s the best you could do?!” Iplier whipped his head back to Dark and Wilford; they were both seething. “All of these years of chasing me, and for what?! You couldn’t do fucking shit to me, even with green boy’s help here! And, now, for your frivolous efforts, yet another man will die for your pointless pursuit!”

 

    Iplier continued to laugh with delight. Wilford looked at Dark desperately, but his partner was looking at the ground as his eyes darted back and forth frequently. Dark frantically searched his mind for an answer to their problem. What were they suppose to do, now? They couldn’t die here. There must be something they can do - something, anything! Dark looked up towards the suspended man in a futile attempt to understand why Jack’s plan fail--

 

    Wilford watched Dark’s form became still. Confused at the sudden change of demeanor, Wilford called out to Dark, but the man didn’t answer. Iplier was still laughing with his head thrown back unaware at what had caught the man’s attention. After a moment, Wilford moved his gaze to see what Dark was looking at, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.  

 

    Jack was smiling. It was toothy, animalistic, and downright terrifying.

 

    “Connection established.”

 

    Iplier stopped mid-laugh at the sound of Jack’s voice.

 

    Jack’s flame burst to life once more with an even greater intensity than before; blue danced with green as clawed fingers dug into Iplier’s arm to keep him from escaping. Jack’s laughed at the look of terror covered Iplier’s face, but the pitch was higher than normal and crackling.

 

    “That’s impossible!,” Iplier screeched out, “What- How- that’s not fair!”

 

    “A connection is a connection~,” Jack replied, and his voice matched the pitch of his laugh. Dark swallowed as Jack’s gaze locked with his. “I told you that I got this. Don’t you worry your little head, Darkimoo~” Jack smiled at Wilford, and Wilford matched his gaze with a combination of fear and adrenalin. Focusing his gaze back on a terrified Iplier, each of Jack’s eyes burst into its own respective color as Jack forced his aura through the hand impaled into his chest.

 

    Dark and Wilford flinched at both the sudden release of aura pressure and Iplier’s blood curdling scream of pain and agony against their body and eardrums. It lasted for a solid minute before there was a loud pop and everything was suspended in motion.

 

    They opened their eyes to see a dark blue atmosphere surrounding them. It reminded Wilford of the realm between reality and the Upside-Down, but it had a different hue. Iplier’s torso and limbs had become locked in slow motion, but their attention snapped to Iplier’s head as it started to move at normal speed.

 

    The head rolled to one side before it opened it’s eyes; brown irises moved to lock eyes with Dark’s. Dark studied the eyes carefully before speaking, “....Mr. Fischbach?”

 

    Mark’s eyes widened as he took in Dark’s appearance and then Wilford’s.

 

    “What.. What happened? Where..?” Mark looked around and his eyes landed on Jack’s bloodied form and gasped as he realized his own hand was impaled into his friend’s chest. “Oh god. Oh _god_. Jack? Jack?! Seán! No, nonono -- what?” Mark tried and failed to pull out his hand. “W-why can’t I move my hand? What’s happening?! Jack?!”

 

    Dark cursed under his breath. This wasn’t good. Mark was panicking, shock beginning to take over, and Dark needed him to stay calm and focused. Dark called out Mark’s name repeatedly in attempt get his attention, but it wasn’t until both Wilford and Dark shouted his name at the same time when Mark finally snapped his attention to them breathing harshly.

 

    “Mark, breathe. Deep breaths. We need you to focus on us.” Dark spoke low, deep, and smooth in an attempt to calm the boy. “We can save Septiceye, but you need to calm down and focus.” Mark was still panicking, but he didn’t break his gaze with Dark as he listened to what he had to say. “Listen to me, you have to let us in. We’re the one’s Septiceye told you about. We can save him - save you - and end this.” Mark’s breathing was slowly returning to normal, and he watched Dark for one more moment before turning his gaze to Wilford. Wilford nodded towards him as an unspoken agreement to Dark’s statement.

 

    Mark stared at them for a minute, breaths almost back to normal before he looked back over to his beloved friend. Jack’s eyes were distant and not focused on anything in particular. Dark figured Jack was too busy holding Iplier back as Mark gained temporary control. Tears ran down Mark’s face, and Mark bit his lip in an attempt to hold back his sobs. Mark shook his head side to side trying to chase away his emotions, then he took a deep breath.

 

    They watched as Mark ground his teeth together as he opened his eyes; they burned with anger and passion. “If you try to do anything stupid, I will hunt you down across every single universe and kick your asses till the end of time, you hear me?”

 

    Dark and Wilford responded at the same time, “You have our word.”

 

    Mark looked back to Jack one more time before looking back at them. “Do it. I let you in. Go kick his ass.”

 

    All three of the men’s attention snapped to Jack as he grunted in pain. He spat out blood from his mouth as the blue upside-down started to collapse into itself. “Fuckin’ finally,” Jack mumbled. Jack let his flames scrambled across Iplier’s form and engulf Dark and Wilford; both men grit their teeth as their flesh started to burn and melt away from the intense heat.

 

_“Okay, so for this to work, you have to die.” Dark and Wilford stared at Jack in disbelief._

 

_“On what grounds?!,” Wilford spat out._

 

_“Only your spirits can enter a body, and for this plan of attack, that road is a one-way street. Obviously, you can’t fight the bastard here in Ireland if you don’t have a physical form, so you have to battle against Iplier until I can get a good shot at the guy. Once Mark let’s you in… You’ll need to be a spirit for the next part.”_

 

_Dark processed the information as Wilford huffed, “And you’re probably going to enjoy killing us.”_

 

_Jack shrugged and smirked, but he never replied._

 

    Dark felt his aura leaving his body as his bones and organs turned to ash; Wilford didn’t look much better. The strings could not bind auras, and ended up disintegrating within the flames.

 

    Jack felt more blood pool into his mouth, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. His strength was slipping fast, and his physical body was on the brink of failure. Mark watched as Dark and Wilford’s aura emerged from the charred forms, and the two smoke-like entities wasted no time entering Mark’s body. The black form shot into Mark’s right eye as the pink aura entered his left. The moment they were fully inside, the upside-down finished collapsing, and Iplier’s red aura burst into a great explosion; exploding the earth and kicking up debris and dust.

 

    A minute passed as the dust settled. Both Iplier and Jack’s unconscious form had collapsed to the ground. Iplier’s clawed hand was still impaled in Jack’s chest while Jack’s hands clasped his chest wound and Iplier’s wrist; blue, green, and red ember glows swirled and surround the connection. Jack’s eyes were closed, and his breaths were labored. Iplier’s mouth was slack as his eyes glowed pink and red with hints of black shadows.

 

    Mark woke back up in the nest with a start. Shaking his head to help clear his vision, he took in the black and pink forms that had their back to him. The black one looked similar to a wolf where the pink one was that of a wild boar. They were snarling at a giant red serpent with bright yellow eyes.

 

    Before he could even say anything, all three forms went at each other. Their movements were so fast that they became blurred streaks. The power of all three auras radiating off them made Mark flinch and close his eyes against the pressure. He could feel his soul being consumed at a dramatic rate from Iplier, and Mark mentally tried to stop it but the flow never slowed down. Cracking one eye open, Mark could tell that the red blur was more prominent than the other two.

   

    That was bad. Dark and Wilford were losing. They were still alive judging by the screams, growls, and other animalistic sounds that were reverberating throughout the cavern, but Mark had to do something.

 

    “But what?,” Mark asked himself out loud, “How to we beat this guy?!” His eyes squeezed his eyes and clenched his fists in frustration, then went still before he squeezed his right hand again. Eyes snapped open and observed the glowing green object in his hand. “... Is that a chef knife?” Mark put two and two together, then looked back at the knife in shock. “Is this _Anti’s_ chef knife?!”

 

    “ _Sever the bonds!”_ Mark whipped his head around while trying to identify the source of the voice. “ _Mark, sever the bonds! Hurry, I --”_  A series of wet coughs echoed around him. Mark’s jaw dropped in shock. “..Jack?”

 

    On the outside, Jack was barely breathing, blood coated his lips. He had one eye cracked open and he was looking at Iplier’s form. The hands that were wrapped around his wrist were the only part of Jack that was still surrounded in aura. Pain had wrecked his body, and his grip was weak.

 

    Jack focused his inner thoughts and strength to communicate with Mark once more. _“I-I can’t maintain the blade much more. Please, hurry.”_  Mark’s body trembled at the sound of Jack’s dying voice. Sadness turned to determination as he whipped around the blade in his hand and plunged it into the fibers surrounding his wrists. Mark cried out as his heart clenched in pain. Fuck. Severing the bonds meant severing the soul. _Goddammit._ Mark shook his head and moved the knife again to plunge into another set of fibers. No going back, now.

 

    Mark started to get his arm free. First his forearm, then the upper arm. He worked the blade carefully around his head and freed his neck.

 

    Iplier’s blurr slowed and two bright eyes turned to look at Mark. Mark didn’t break eye contact as he slashed through another series of fibers that freed his other hand. The serpent hissed angrily at Mark, but the black and pink blurs quickly surrounded it and continued to fight it.

 

    Mark worked on freeing his other arm as the wolf and boar kept beating the serpent back and away from him. The colors of black and pink aura were starting to rival that of the red one as Iplier continued to lose his power source. The screams and howls rang painfully in Mark’s ears causing the man to flinch, but even when the pain of the severed connection was becoming more unbearable and his vision started to blur, his progress didn’t slow.

 

    The snake, enraged at what Mark was doing, bobbed and weaved out of attack range as it slithered towards Mark. As the serpent lunged at Mark’s neck, the man raised the blade and he brought it down for one final swoop along his lower torso and legs. Giant fangs stopped just short of the jugular as Mark’s body became engulfed in a white light. The large explosion of the soul launched all three colored auras away.

 

    The light faded after a brief moment. Dark groaned as he clambered up to his feet and gripped his head. He heard Wilford stumble to his own feet. They both looked at each other; both of them back in a human appearance. A groan to Dark’s left captured both of their attention.

 

    Iplier was laying on the unseen ground dressed in his iconic red robe and lounge pants - the same outfit that Iplier had worn back at the mansion all those years ago. Dark and Wilford watched as he struggled to get up, but for some reason was unable to.

 

    “This isn’t fair,” Iplier whimpered, “This just isn’t fair. Why? Why can’t I win?” Iplier looked at Wilford. “Why’d she choose you? Why’d you take her away from me?”

 

    Wilford looked away in shame and Dark stepped forward to answer for him, “We’ve all done things we regret, Iplier.” Dark leaned down to pick up the green-glowing knife; he turned it so he could see his own black eyes staring back at him. After a moment, Dark let the knife and hand rest at his side and started to walk forward towards Iplier; After a moment, Wilford followed.

 

    They watched as Iplier’s eyes widened in terror. “N-no.. please. Don’t kill me.”

 

    Both men came to stop by Iplier’s side and knelt down. Dark brushed some of Iplier’s bangs from his face. “We were all suppose to die ages ago,” Dark stated. Wilford took one of Iplier’s hands within his own, and his other hand wrapped around Dark’s hand which held the knife.

 

    Iplier struggled for words, struggled to move his body, but nothing came of it. Dark and Wilford raised the blade above their heads.

 

    “Toodles,” Dark mimicked, and slammed the blade downwards. Iplier inhaled a pained gasp as the blade plunged into his stomach. The two men let go as the blade burst into flames and consumed Iplier. The men watched as the life faded from Iplier’s eyes and, eventually, his form disintegrated and disappeared completely.

 

    They felt Jack’s presence disappear, causing both of their gazes to snap up to the void. They couldn't see anything. Wilford looked over to his partner. “Dark? Is he…?” Dark closed his eyes, bowed his head, and clenched his fist. Wilford looked away but placed a hand on Dark’s shoulder as a sign of comfort. Dark shuttered, let out a sigh, and opened up his eyes once more as he gazed at the spot where Iplier once laid.

 

    After a moment, they got to their feet and faced each other. “What now, Dark?”

 

    Dark wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m not really sure, Wil. This place looks like the upside-down from back at the manor, but--” Dark paused mid-sentence as a white flake of light drifted between the two men. They watched as it slowly drifted like a feather around them; it never quite reached the ground.

 

    Wilford reached out for the floating piece and gasped once he touched it. He had a far-away look for a second before he looked down at the piece and turned it over to inspect it.

 

    Dark stared in bewilderment, but before he could ask anything, another piece fluttered into view. After a moment, he snatched it out of the air. Suddenly, a fragment of a memory -not his own- flashed through his mind. It was of Mark and his friend -Wade. Wade? Who was Wade? They were standing on a porch late at night. Mark was distraught and was seeking advice from Wade about how to go about his future. He watched as they discussed the pros and cons of starting a career making videos.

 

    The memory ended suddenly and Dark was back in the void. He looked down at the piece in his hand as he studied it. “Are these.. Fischbach’s memories?” Dark looked up to see that Wilford had found another piece. He was trying to put them together like mismatched puzzle pieces. As he looked around, Dark saw that there were more pieces floating around.

 

    Wilford made a frustrating noise before he focused his own pink aura out of his fingertips. The aura naturally weaved through the ends of both pieces and pulled taut. The two fragments joined as one. Wilford smiled down at it before beaming at Dark. Dark stared back before he grabbed another fragment. The vision from this piece came in the form of Mark laying down in his backyard. He was staring up at the stars, and his cheeks were damp from previously shedded tears.

 

    Dark looked down at the piece in his hand for a moment before bringing it towards the other piece. He focused his own aura and let it intwine the two pieces together. His fingers tingled from the lack of aura he would never get back. “...Literally stitching his soul back together.” Dark chuckled as he recalled the conversation with the green-haired man. “Unbelievable.”

 

    Wilford, looking back at him with a smile on his face, pointing up to the space above them. Dark looked up and gasped at the sight of a million pieces of soul fragments floating above their heads. They flickered and twirled against the black expanse. It was like the stars of the Milky Way Galaxy were fluttering down towards them as a quiet winter snowfall. They made no sound, but just shown like the little bright lights they were. It was…

 

    “Incredible, isn’t it, Dark?,” Wilford asked, regaining his attention once more. Dark took a deep breath in response and closed his eyes.

 

    When he opened them once more, they reflected stubbornness. Dark rolled his shoulders back, cracked his neck, stood up straight, and asked, “Why should we help you, Fischbach? We could just let you die and take you with us into the abyss. Why should we be the ones to put you back together?”

 

    A single soul fragment came up from behind Dark and brushed his cheek. A flash of memory, a recent one, filled Dark’s mind. He couldn’t see a thing, but he could hear his own voice echoing in his ears. It was when he was in the nest and captured by Iplier. Dark had discovered that Fischbach was still alive, though unconscious. Dark was yelling as he struggled against the binds. **“I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO KILL ANYONE ELSE EVER AGAIN!”**

 

    Wilford watched as Dark stood there in shock for about two seconds before the man burst out into laughter. He blinked at Dark as the man bent over in hysterics and wondered if his partner had finally lost his mind.

 

    Dark’s laugh settled into a chuckle as he grabbed the fragment resting against his cheek. “You little shit, how dare you use my own words against me,” Dark said in more of a statement than a question as he looked down at the glowing fragment, but his voice had no heat to the words implied. He could’ve sworn that the piece warmed his fingers in response as a way to express its satisfaction.

 

    Wilford met Dark’s gaze as he looked up from the piece in his hand. Dark realised that Wilford was waiting to see what Dark would actually do with the fragments; that Wilford would probably follow whatever Dark decided to do with their new host. He pondered his options for a moment before voicing his thoughts, “I’m tired, Wilford. I’ve done what I’ve set out to do. Every choice I’ve made since the mansion was to lead to the conclusion of killing a man.” Dark looked down at the clump of fragments in his hand. “This is the first time where I can choose to save one.” Wilford waited as Dark fell silent for a moment. “This is one aspect of my life Iplier has no control over.”

 

    “So, let’s do it,” Wilford half stated, half laughed, “If only to spite the old bastard.” That got Dark to smile in agreement, and he even chuckled to himself.

 

    Black aura flowed from his fingertips as he attached the third fragment to the first two. “If only for spite, then that’s reason enough.”

 

    They worked together in silence as the steady snowfall of twinkling stars floated down and around them. They learned a lot about Mark Fischbach; they learned about where he was born, where he grew up, his days of school and college, his health crises, the loss of his father, and the mourning that followed. They watched as he took the leap into YouTube, and watched in amazement of how his fandom grew, how he became shocked when he was first approached by a fan, and then two fans. Then ten, a hundred, two hundred, and five hundred - the subscriber count grew and grew. Their host grew more confident in his videos, and the adoration of fans spread across the globe. There was Ethan, Tyler, Chica, Amy, Kathryn, Bob, Wade, and Jack.

 

    Dark and Wilford took a moment to both touch the piece and watch in their mind as an image Jack, portrayed on a skype phone call with Bob, Wade, and Mark, played on repeat. Jack was laughing at a joke Bob had made as they all played Prop Hunt. The two men said nothing as they stitched that piece into the larger chunk of Mark’s soul.

 

    As it was nearing completion, the white clump of fragments that were stitched together with black and pink strings started to move and take shape of a human male. After the form became still once more, Dark and Wilford began to stitch up the remaining floating pieces.

 

    Dark looked over at Wilford and noticed that he had become very transparent. Looking down at his own form had confirmed that Wilford was not the only one affected. This must’ve been what Septiceye meant when he said they would disappear.

 

    When there were only two pieces left, Wilford and Dark each took one. The white form started to stir. White light of the soul gave way to a more human appearance. Mark’s black hair came into view, and soon after his skin appeared. Jeans, a black t-shirt, and a red plaid flannel covered his legs and torso. A pair of red sneakers and white socks formed around his feet, and a pair of black framed glasses appeared on his face. The space around Mark seemed to glow white, and it gave off a warm and inviting appearance. Mark seemed to be back into his own physical appearance with the exception of two white spots on his face; each spot right by the sides of his eyes. Mark opened his eyes and took in the appearance of the two men before him.

 

    They all acknowledged each other silently for a minute before Mark began to speak. “Um… Hi.”

 

    “Hello!,” Wilford greeted in response, but he said nothing more.

 

    Mark stared for a moment more before cocking his head to one side. “So, like, Jack told me about you, but never told me _who_ you are. So, who are you?”

 

    To both Mark and Dark’s surprise, Wilford bowed towards Mark like a prince. “The name’s Wilford Warfstache. I am at your service, good sir.” Mark stammered, a blush on his cheeks, as he tried to stop Wilford from bowing to him. Dark watched as Wilford glance at him from the side, having yet to retract his bow.

 

    Dark coughed into his hand and straightened his posture. “And I am Dark. Dark Iplier. _Not_ at your service,” he added, giving Wilford a glare. His partner only laughed as he stood back up from his bow.

 

    When Dark looked back at Mark, his host had an annoyed look on his face. Before Dark could ask what was wrong, Mark spoke. “Darkiplier.”

 

    Both Wilford and Dark were caught off guard by the name. Dark stuttered, “P-pardon?”

 

    Dark would never admit that he jumped slightly when Mark pointed a finger at him. “You’re now Darkiplier. Not ‘ee-pliee-air’ like that asshole called himself. ‘Ipp-plier.’ Like my YouTube channel, but it’s Darkiplier instead of Markiplier. Wilford is fine, but as for you, your name changes as of today.” Mark was beaming at his own genius as Dark scrambled to find words. Wilford was laughing his ass off at Dark’s misfortune.

 

    “You can’t just change somebodies name!,” Dark finally managed to scream out.

 

    “I can, and I will!,” Mark shouted back. He was still as smug as ever.

 

    Dark wanted to pull out his own hair in frustration. “Why?!”

 

    “Because you’re not him.” Mark’s reply came out quiet. It was simple and straight to the point. The matter-of-factness brought the argument on Dark’s lips to a halt. Mark stared at him and continued his explanation when he realised Dark was stunned into silence. “I’ve realised that my YouTube name was how he had found me; How you both had found me, apparently. However, we aren’t the same person. You know that now, right? I’m not an Iplier. I’m a Fischbach.” Mark smiled. “And you’re not an Iplier either. It’s actually Damien, right? The mayor of a prosperous town?”

 

    Dark went still as his old name rang through his ears. Mark turned to Wilford who was smiling all the same. “And you’re William; Colonel and hunter of all things wildlife. The reason I know this is because you both put me back together with your memories. At least, I think you did. I dunno.”

 

    Mark turned his attention back to Dark. “However, that being said, you’re not him. You’re more like me if I had any balls to get revenge on my enemies,” Mark added with a laugh, “Besides, I don’t want you associating yourself with that jerk anymore. You’re better than him at everything. Don’t forget that.”

 

    Dark gazed into Mark’s eyes, searching for any hint of scheming and ill will towards him.

 

    He found none.

 

    Dark pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as Wilford laughed with delight. Wilford clasped a hand on Dark’s shoulder. “I like him already, Dark~”

 

    “Shut up, Wilford,” Dark grumbled in reply. He looked back up at Mark who was beaming the brightest smile that they had ever seen. Dark’s nose flared in annoyance. “ _Fine,_ ” Dark spat out, “I suppose you have a point. Darkiplier it is.” Dark pointed a finger right back at Mark. “If you tarnish our names or story in _any way_ , I will dig my way back from the deepest pits of hell to kick your ass into the next century, you hear me?”

 

    "You have my word.” Mark smiled as Wilford and Dark stared him down. “Thank you for saving me.”

 

    Wilford smiled brightly as Dark lowered his hand and looked away. Dark replied, “It’s just for our convenience, I assure you. I did this for our memories, and that’s it. Don’t get cocky.” Mark laughed in reply. His laughter was warm and kind; his soul was too.

 

    Dark looked down at the fragment of soul resting in his hand. He had almost forgotten about it. He looked to Wilford as his partner looked at his own piece. Wilford looked back to him and asked Dark, “I believe we’ve extended this conversation as far as it could go. Are you ready, old friend?”

 

    Dark took a deep breath, briefly closed his eyes, and reconnected Wilford’s gaze with his own. “It’s been an honor to work by your side all these years; both as Wilford and as William.”

 

    “As it has been mine, dear Damien,” replies Wilford, and before Dark can protest, he pulls the man into a tight embrace. Dark is about to push him away when Wilford whispers into his ear, “Job well done, my good man. Job well done.” Dark is in shock before he feels the beginning of tear drops forming around his eyes. After a moment, Dark returns the embrace, and they stay like that for a long moment.

 

    When they finally break apart, they find Mark crying honest-to-whatever-god crocodile tears. Dark stumbles for words, “Wha-what? Why are you crying?”

 

    Mark shakes his head and smiles. “I’m sorry. I just met you, but I feel like I’m watching some dear old friends leave for the first time, and I don’t know-- I just-- I’m really happy everything worked out well. Sorry.” Mark wipes the tears from his eyes as they continue to fall down his face.

 

    Dark and Wilford stared back at Mark as they observe the crying man before them. Mark had been right. Even if they didn’t have all of the memories, all of the experiences with this man, it didn’t take either of them long to determine that Mark was indeed _not_ Iplier. Maybe hints of their old friend were there before he had become lost to the house, but… Then Mark smiled at them, and Dark felt the last bit of resistance in him give way.

 

    Dark raised the piece of soul to eye level, and Wilford did the same. Mark smiled as they approached. “I promise to protect your memories. I promise.”

 

    Dark and Wilford smiled back at him as the last pieces were stitched in place.

 

    “Thank you.”

 

    Mark’s vision went white.

 

 

   


	6. Celebrating a Successful Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world reset, and it set them free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter! Here we go! :D

Mark groaned and shielded his eyes from the morning rays of the sun peaking through the bedroom window. He rolled away from the irritating light with the determination of getting a few more hours of sleep. 

 

He had just settled into a more comfortable position before his body stiffened. 

 

Mark’s eyes flew open and was greeted by a familiar lamp and nightstand; furniture Mark had seen in a guest bedroom that he had used a few times before. Quickly propping himself back up on his forearms, Mark took in the sight of the bedroom. He was in one of the two twin beds located that occupied the small living space. This was Jack’s guest room. Jack-- oh, god, Jack?! What happened to-- Mark looked down the bed. A head of green hair was resting face down into a pair of crossed arms placed on top of the comforter, and the rest of the man was slouched uncomfortably over in a chair. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Jack was snoring softly, and Mark let out a breath of relief at the sound indicating that Jack was, indeed, alive.  

 

Mark ran his hands across his face and wiped away the tears that had formed from finding his friend alive and well. He couldn’t help himself and shook Jack’s shoulder to wake him up; Mark needed to make sure that he was completely okay. Jack immediately snapped awake.  “I’m up! I’m-- woah…,” Jack trailed off when he grabbed his head from the sudden rush of vertigo. He shook his head to clear away the fog in his mind before finally meeting Mark’s gaze. “Oh! Um… Mornin’, Mark.”

 

“Mornin’,” Mark replied. They stared back at each other for a moment. “Um. Listen, do you, uh…”

 

“Dark and Wilford? Yeah.”

 

“Okay. Cool. Um, and Iplier?”

“The crazy mo-fo that possessed you and tried to ruin everyone’s lives? Yep.” 

 

“Oh. Thank Fuck.”

 

“Yeah,” Jack replied.

 

Silence fell between them for a moment before they both laughed in relief and embraced each other. Mark, body shaking from laughter giving way to sobs, gripped the back of Jack’s shirt and buried his face into the man’s shoulder. Jack rubbed Mark’s back and ran his fingers through the Korean’s hair as he whispered words of comfort. “Hey there, Mark. Welcome back, buddy. I gotchu. You’re safe again, I promise. You made it. You’re safe.”

 

Mark’s reply was broken up by sobs and hiccups. “God, Jack, I was so  _ scared _ . I thought that I wouldn’t-- and then you got impaled, and I--” Jack hushed him, and Mark’s grip around him tightened. 

 

“I know how you feel Mark, and it’s okay. We’re safe. I’m alive. We made it.” Jack released his grip as Mark leaned back to meet his gaze. 

 

“I don’t understand,” said Mark as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “How do you remember all of this? Did the world not reset?”

 

Jack sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “It did reset. As for how I remember, I’m not entirely sure. It’s possible that people like us aren’t affected by the reset.”

 

“How far back did the world go?,” Mark asked. He started to panic. How many videos had he created in this timeline? Did he have to start out fresh? Was he still an engineer-- oh god, no. He didn’t want to start over. He had worked too damn hard to go back now.

 

Jack smiled. “One day.”

 

Mark stared at Jack. Jack stared back.

 

Mark was confused. “Say what now?” 

 

He watched as Jack pulled out his cell phone. “Apparently, the world resets differently each time. I never knew this since I’ve only experience it once before.” Jack pulled up a google image search on his phone before handing the device over to Mark. “The best part is, I don’t think this world wanted to forget them either.”

 

Mark stared at the screen in shock before he slowly reached out and grabbed the phone from Jack’s hand. After a moment, Mark started to scroll through the google image listing. It was various pieces of fanart of a two men; one with a black suit and the other with a pink mustache. Mark scrolled slowly at first, but then his thumb scrolled faster and faster. Along with the fanart were screenshots of videos (that Mark didn’t remember recording) of him roleplaying as Dark and Wilford. Mark looked up to Jack with an unspoken question reflecting in his eyes. 

 

“The world shifts pretty dramatically, including my own event,” Jack answered, “It’ll be an adjustment period, but you’ll get use to it. I checked the rest of your channel. You have new videos of them that I’d never seen before, but it seems the rest of your channel is in tact. The same could probably be said for your life outside of YouTube.” 

 

Mark looked back down at the phone and clicked on one of the images. It was a well-drawn sketch of Wilford and Darkiplier, almost like a photograph, and the resemblance to the actual men was stunning. He pulled up and searched Wikipedia, Tumblr, and his YouTube channel to skimmed over the fan theories of who Wilford and Darkiplier truly were. The ideas were all over the place, and Mark couldn’t help but smile. “This is insane,” Mark chuckled out mainly to himself. 

 

“The best people are, Mark,” Jack replied and smiled back at Mark before he uncrossed his legs and stood up. 

 

Mark watched Jack walk around the bed and asked, “Where are you going?” 

 

Jack made his way to the bedroom door. “As much as I love seeing you alive and well, there’s someone else who wants to see you even more.” 

 

He had no idea who Jack was talking about. “Who would that be?,” asked Mark. Jack opened the door and the familiar jingle of a collar reached Mark’s ears. 

 

No way.

 

“Chica?,” Mark questioned. As soon as the door was open wide enough, the white hound rushed into the room and jumped onto the bed. Mark burst into tears yet again as he reached for his beloved dog. “CHICA!” Jack laughed happily and had to wipe a tear from his eye as watched Mark pull her into a hug. Chica’s tail was wagging back and forth at an amazing speed, and she was licking Mark’s face as he petted and cried into her fur. “Oh, Chica, you’re alive. Thank fuck. Oh, god, Chica, I’m so sorry. I love you so much.” Chica nuzzled his face in return, and Mark laughed at the tickling sensation against his skin. “I missed you, too!”

 

The commotion had caught Signe’s attention, and she entered the room to stand by Jack. “Oh, thank goodness, Mark, you’re alright. I was really worried!” 

 

Mark wiped his tears away as he greeted her. “Hello, Signe. I’m fine now, thanks.” Mark was going to add more to the conversation when Jack caught his eye. Jack was standing behind Signe and had one arm crossed over his torso, almost like he had previously had his arms crossed before. However, his right hand was brought up to his mouth. Jack extended his index finger and let it rest across his lips; it was a sign that asked Mark to stay silent. Mark respected his wishes, but he wasn’t sure why Jack asked him such a favor.

 

Signe never noticed the exchange. “I’m glad you recovered! I’m so sorry about last night, Mark. I didn’t know that the punch bowl had been spiked.” Jack lowered his hand from his mouth as Signe turned to him. Realization dawned on Mark’s face; Signe didn’t remember either. “I still think we should’ve taken him to the hospital.”

 

Jack laughed it off. “My bad. I’ll be sure to follow your advice next time.” 

 

“It’s okay. I’m feeling much better now,” Mark added, “Thank you for taking care of me, and thanks for taking care of Chica, too.” He met Jack’s gaze from across the room. “I mean it. I owe you one.”

 

Jack understood the deeper meaning behind those words and smiled. “No problem. Anytime, Mark.” 

 

A few days had passed since Mark had woken up in Jack’s guest room, and Mark was walking Chica around his LA neighborhood; Jack was walking along side them. They had investigated and noted all of the changes that had happened to the world; It was accepted that Mark had traveled to Ireland to shoot some videos with Jack, and although it was odd that Chica came along, the rest of the community never really questioned it. Instead, they figured that more ‘Darkiplier vs. Antisepticeye’ videos were being made and they didn’t want spoilers. 

 

The actual night that Mark ‘drank the spiked punch’ was suppose to be his last night in Brighton. They had decided to throw a party with their friends, and Mark had taken a drink from the punch bowl. However, they forgot to mention that it was spiked, and Mark was quickly out of commission for the evening. Jack and Signe took him back to their place and agreed to call the hospital if Mark’s condition became worse. 

 

Fortunately, it never got that drastic. After Mark woke up and had one more day of rest, Jack told Signe that he was going to give Mark and Chica a ride to the airport. Instead of driving them there, however, Jack stopped by a nearby park. When Mark asked him what he was doing, Jack simply replied, “Glitching there is faster  _ and  _ cheaper.” 

 

Mark looked at Jack like he had three heads. “Jack, you’re still recovering!” 

 

Jack lifted up his shirt to reveal light, pink scars. “Nah, dude. I’m practically back to my old self. Even my ribs are back to normal.” Jack pushed his shirt back down. “I’ll tell you what, man, this healing ability is nice. Just make sure you don’t get too cocky about hurting yourself, now.” Mark shook his head in disbelief as Jack laughed. Placing one hand on Mark’s shoulder and the other on Chica’s back, Jack glitched them to Mark’s home in LA. 

 

One Mark was home, he embraced Amy and kissed her before giving the rest of his team members their own bear hug. “What’s gotten into you, Mark?,” Tyler had asked, laughing as he returned the embrace. 

 

Mark just laughed at his friends confused face. “Sorry, I dunno. I just really missed you guys!” Jack had glitched back home before anyone besides Mark had seen him.

 

Although confused at the answer, Tyler decided not to question it. “Whatever, man, just don’t kiss me.” Mark immediately pressed a wet kiss on Tyler’s cheek in retaliation, and Tyler squeaked while trying to get away from him. Everyone else was laughing at Tyler's torture.  

 

Three days after that, Mark, Jack, and Chica walking down an LA street. Everyone thought Jack was still in Brighton, but now that he could pop over whenever, Mark was happy that he could chat with his friend in person more often; even if the rest of the world didn’t know about it. “So, Anti and the doctor were real people, huh?,” Mark asked.

 

Jack had his hands in in jean pockets. “Yeah, Anti was a serial killer. Henrik had his own practice, but his mind was deteriorating. Eventually, he was placed in a mental hospital. Those two made weird partners.”

 

Mark looked over at Jack as the man looked up at the sky. “Hey Jack, what happened to you? Really?” Jack stopped walking, and Mark and Chica stopped to look back at him. 

 

Jack was staring at his shoes. “I… summoned it; The possessor. I was at a low point in my life, and…” Jack sighed. “It was back before YouTube and college. I summoned it, and soon after, I met Signe.” After a brief eye contact with Mark, Jack looked away. 

 

Mark walked over and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Whenever you want to talk, I’m always here to listen, Jack. Don’t force it.” Jack smiled back at Mark and nodded in gratitude. 

Just then, a small group of people walked by them, none of them recognising the famous YouTubers. Jack watched them walk by before turning to face Mark before frowning in confusion. Mark’s face was one of shock as he watched the group walk down the street. Not exactly sure of what caught the man off guard, Jack turned back around to watch the group. One of them turned their head to look back at them briefly and gave them a kind smile before facing forward once more. Jack turned back to Mark and asked, “Mark, What’s wrong? Did you see someone you know?”

 

Mark stared at the departing group as a flash of a face, a memory, stared back at him through a shattered mirror hanging in an abandoned manor. Manor? What manor?-- but the face in the mirror was heartbroken and their expression was filled with rage.

 

The same face in the mirror matched with the person that looked back at them with a kind smile. They were almost that person’s twin. 

 

_ No.  _ Something inside Mark’s soul knew.  _ That  _ is  _ the same person.  _ Tears from a distant memory ran down Mark’s cheeks as something inside him broke. 

 

The world reset, and it set them  _ free.  _

 

Jack caught Mark in his arms as he collapsed from the sudden rush of relief that flew from his body. Memories and emotions not his own burned in Mark’s mind. “Mark? Hey now, you’re okay. What’s going on? Come on, talk to me.”

 

Mark shook his head and looked up at Jack. “They’re free, Jack. They’re finally free.” Jack looked down at Mark confused, but Mark just laughed at Jack’s expression. Jack figured that it was a conversation for another day and helped Mark to his feet. 

 

They walked back an intersection where Jack said his goodbyes for the day and glitched back home. Mark walked up to and entered his home. He let Chica off of her leash, and he could hear the laughter of his team echo through the house from his living room. Mark was kicking off his shoes when Katheryn poked her head into the hallway. “Hey Mark, a packaged arrived on your doorstep a while ago. Like, it was right after you left to walk Chica. I left it on your desk in your office.” Mark thanked her and headed into his studio. A somewhat long, rectangular cardboard box was, indeed, placed on his desk. 

 

Mark took out a pocket knife and opened up the box. Whatever was inside it was cushioned in packing peanuts and wrapped in brown paper. On top sat a note scribbled with familiar handwriting. 

 

_ I took it upon myself to start searching, but I finally found them. I figured that you’d like to have these.  _

_ ~JSE _

 

Placing the note down, Mark reached in and started to pull away the protective material. As pieces of paper and packing peanuts littered the floor, Mark’s fingers brushed against some cold metal. Gripping the piece, he pulled the object out above the box. 

 

Mark stared as he realized what he was holding was  _ really  _ a piece. A revolver, to be specific. “Is this...Wilford’s revolver? How in the world did…?” Mark turned it over in his hand, the light from his studio glinted across its surface and flickered in his eye. It had been cleaned and polished. Mark pushed the lever to let the chamber fall to the side as if he were to reload it. He gazed into each slot and took in every detail; spinning the chamber with the tip of his thumb in almost a hypnotic pace. The chambers were empty, but that was probably for the best. 

 

After setting the chamber back into place, Mark set the gun onto the soft padding of his office chair and reached into the box for the last object. A part of him knew what it was, and as his hands wrapped around the black shaft, his suspicions were confirmed. The black cane had also been polished to a brilliant shine. It was well balanced and felt natural resting in his palm. Bracing the shaft with one hand, he grabbed the handle with the other and gave it a pull. The blade came out with little resistance, and Mark saw his brown eyes reflecting back at him. Mark reflected back on the shared memories that his two spirits had with these weapons and sighed. He wanted his spirits to be remembered more than weapons and his current videos of them, but Mark wasn’t really sure how to go about it. 

 

The laughter and conversation his team was having reached his ears once more. They were brainstorming their latest project. It was going to be a murder mystery, but they hadn’t decided on a plot and still wanted to add more characters. Mark listened to the banter as he stared back at his reflection in the blade. 

 

A lightbulb in his mind flickered once.

 

Tyler made a comment about a mansion that they found, and that the owners would let the team rent it for a few days. Apparently, it was gorgeous. 

 

The lightbulb flickered a second time. 

 

Mark stared back down at the gun, and then at Chica as she entered his office, tail wagging. She had a pink bowtie in her mouth. 

 

The light bulb flickered on and stayed lit.

 

Mark’s smile threatened to split his face in two. He slid the sword back into place and grabbed the gun from his chair. Reaching down to take the bowtie from Chica’s mouth, Mark petted her on the head. “Good girl, Chica~” Mark rushed out of the room and shouted down the hall, “Hey guys! I have an idea!”

 

With months of planning, preparation, and rehearsals later, Mark was standing in front of a full-length mirror in one of the multiple guest rooms in the manor. Amy was walking around him, making sure his black suit, white bowtie, and ‘Mayor’ button was perfectly placed. Mark smiled as he watched her work around him and leaned down to kiss her once she gave him her approval. Kathryn called for Amy a short while later, and Mark informed her that he would be there in a moment. Mark looked back into the mirror and smiled warmly at his appearance. The amount of hair gel needed to slick back his hair was scary, but he wanted it to be perfect. 

 

Mark glanced over to the nearby chair. On top of its cushion sat the outfit for the Colonel’s attire. 

 

Those two had deserved the right for this to be perfect.

 

Grabbing his black cane, he tossed it into the air and caught it. “Let’s do this.”

 

_ And, thus, the filming of ‘Who Killed Markiplier’ commenced. It turned out to be a huge hit within Mark’s community! Everyone enjoyed it and went crazy with the sudden plot twists.  _

_ It seems that the world’s reset went without a hitch. I have to admit, Mark’s possession came as a surprise. It seem’s like he didn’t even summon it like I did. I have plans to discuss it with Mark once we’ve figured everything out. It seems so weird to have another person to relate to, now. I feel bad for Mark, but I’m sure he’s glad he has me to talk to about all this, too.  _

 

“Annnnd Save.” Jack said out loud as he saved the document he had written. Ever since he survived his own possession, Jack had documented everything that he could remember that what was out of place before the first reset. He hadn’t needed to make an entry in a few years, though, once everything has calmed down. However, now that another reset has occurred, Jack felt compelled to write down the change in events. 

 

Jack printed out a hard copy of the record just incase his computer crashes (another paranoid thing he did ever since he first met Anti), and leaned back against his chair. It had been, what, six months now since he helped save Mark. 

 

Jack remembered lunging towards Iplier, and Iplier had caught him. It had hurt something fierce. He remembered the blood in his mouth, the fear in Dark’s eyes, and Jack was pretty sure at that point that he had fucked up and was going to die.

 

The next thing he remembered was laying down in the charred field, Iplier’s hand still in his chest and the possessor’s eyes glowing red, pink, and black. Dark and Wilford were nowhere to be seen, and Jack realized he had been maintaining Anti’s chef knife within Mark’s mind. Realizing what was going on, Jack fought to stay conscious as long as he could before finally succumbing to sleep. The next time he woke up, Mark was shaking him awake in his guest room.

 

Everything went well, but Jack couldn’t help but think how he had went from the brink of death to pulling through and saving Mark with no memory in between. That had never happened before. 

 

It was Jack that saved Mark.

 

...Wasn’t it?

 

Jack shook his head of those thoughts and stood up. Of course he did! It must’ve been  an effect of living through a second reset, at least that’s what Jack had told himself. A lot happened that day, he had pushed his powers to the breaking point, and he had lost a lot of blood. He was just overthinking things. 

 

He looked at the time and realised it was almost three AM. Jack put his computer monitor to sleep and went their bedroom where Signe slept. Stripping down to nothing but boxers, Jack crawled into bed and spooned up behind Signe. She stirred just briefly to reposition before falling back into a deep slumber. Jack let his hand rest on her stomach, and he kissed the back of her neck before drifting off to sleep himself.

 

In his office, the computer screen flickered once. 

 

Twice.

 

Words in Ziglo appeared before the screen went black once more; a crackled laughter echoing against the office walls.

 

_ D͕̯̠͓̲ͅị͈̘̗̳̣̹̋d͖̜͉̱̍͋̄͋̚ _ __ __ __ __ __ __ _ Y̭͚͙̦̖̌̈́ͬ̈̊͊͆oͣ̽u̮̟͖͖̿ͭ̂̿ _

 

_                 M͎̩͇̣̥ͭ͐̍ͅi̬̼̣̪̩̦͆ͦ͂s͇͎̣̤̿ͪs͎͍̭ͬ̾̒̂ _

 

_      M̺̳̠e̹̱,̺̣̪̻͕͙ͫ͑ _

 

_ J̼͙̺̼͓̟̟̄ͣ̎a̺͙ͯ̄ͫ͆c̯̰̪̪̖̙̀k̺̘̙̘͇̎?ͦͮ̾ ͔͓͓̮̎͗ͭ͋ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS DONE! WOO!! 
> 
> Okay, so this took WAY longer than I intended to write, but I’m glad I finished it! Thank you to everyone for reading this. I’m really glad a lot of you liked it. 
> 
> Okay, first disclaimer, I left Jack’s backstory really vague because I want to write his own tale of stories - Mainly of him, Anti, and Henrik (with possibly a special guest, Robin!). I hope to make this a two part series where Mark’s was this one, and Jack will have his own “adventure”. 
> 
> Second, I really tried to explain everyone’s powers and backstory (excluding Jack’s) but I realize that I may have not have addressed everything, so if you have any unanswered questions, please feel free to comment and ask! 
> 
> As for Jack’s story, I have nothing written yet. I hope to write it sometime next year, but I barely have a headcanon for him and his egos. I’ll have to work on it before I get started (Don’t hold your breath, it might be a while XD). Until then, let your mind go wild~
> 
> Thank you so much for stopping by! I plan to do some fanart pieces of this in the future and will put it up on my DA account: https://sanagicgb.deviantart.com/ , although I have nothing up there (besides the story) relating to The Hunt as of yet (aka: as of Dec 2017). 
> 
> May you all have a wonderful Holiday season and a Happy New Year! 
> 
> Of kindest regards,  
>  -CgBK10

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for stopping by. I'll continue regardless of popularity just so I can get the ideas out of my head (I need to focus on mid-term exams but my brain won't stop going off the rails...)
> 
> HOWEVER! If you liked it, PUNCH the Like Button IN THE FACE--- .. wait, wrong outro. 
> 
> Leave a comment! Let me know what you think. I hope to get the next chapter up in a couple days.  
> Cheers~


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